•PS 


^l 


BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST 


AND 


TALES    OF    HOME. 


BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST 


AND 


TALES    OF    HOME 


BY 


BAYARD    TAYLOR. 


NEW  YORK: 
G.    P.    PUTNAM    &    SONS, 

FOURTH     AVENUE     AND     TWENTY-THIRD     STREET. 
1872. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of   Congress,  in  the  year  1872,  by 

GEO.  P.  PUTNAM  &  SONS, 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


Wm.  McCrea  &  Co.,  Stereotypers,  Newburgh,  N.  Y. 


CONTENTS. 


M725765 


PAGE. 


BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST 7 

THE  STRANGE  FRIEND 75 

JACOB  FLINT'S  JOURNEY 107 

CAN  A  LIFE  HIDE  ITSELF  ? 139 

TWIN-LOVE !69 

THE  EXPERIENCES  OF  THE  A.  C.  ...  193 
FRIEND  ELI'S  DAUGHTER  .  ,  .  .  .241 
Miss  BARTRAM'S  TROUBLE  .....  283 
MRS.  STRONGITHARM'S  REPORT  ....  307 


BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 


A  STORY  OF  OLD  RUSSIA. 
I. 

E  are  about  to  relate  a  story 
of  mingled  fact  and  fancy.  The 
facts  are  borrowed  from  the 
Russian  author,  Petjerski ;  the 
fancy  is  our  own.  Our  task 
will  chiefly  be  to  soften  the  out 
lines  of  incidents  almost  too  sharp  and  rugged  for  literary 
use,  to  supply  them  with  the  necessary  coloring  and 
sentiment,  and  to  give  a  coherent  and  proportioned 
shape  to  the  irregular  fragments  of  an  old  chron 
icle.  We  know  something,  from  other  sources,  of  the 
customs  described,  something  of  the  character  of  the 
people  from  personal  observation,  and  may  therefore  the 
more  freely  take  such  liberties  as  we  choose  with  the  rude, 
vigorous  sketches  of  the  Russian  original.  One  who  hap 
pens  to  have  read  the  work  of  Villebois  can  easily  com 
prehend  the  existence  of  a  state  of  society,  on  the  banks 


8  BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST. 

of  the  Volga,  a  hundred  years  ago,  which  is  now  impos 
sible,  and  will  soon  become  incredible.  What  is  strangest 
in  our  narrative  has  been  declared  to  be  true. 


II. 

WE  are  in  Kinesma,  a  small  town  on  the  Volga,  be 
tween  Kostroma  and  Nijni-Novgorod.  The  time  is  about 
the  middle  of  the  last  century,  and  the  month  October. 

There  was  trouble  one  day,  in  the  palace  of  Prince 
Alexis,  of  Kinesma.  This  edifice,  with  its  massive  white 
walls,  and  its  pyramidal  roofs  of  green  copper,  stood 
upon  a  gentle  mound  to  the  eastward  of  the  town,  over 
looking  it,  a  broad  stretch  of  the  Volga,  and  the  opposite 
shore.  On  a  similar  hill,  to  the  westward,  stood  the 
church,  glittering  with  its  dozen  bulging,  golden  domes. 
These  two  establishments  divided  the  sovereignty  of 
Kinesma  between  them.  Prince  Alexis  owned  the  bodies 
of  the  inhabitants,  (with  the  exception  of  a  few  merchants 
and  tradesmen,)  and  the  Archimandrite  Sergius  owned 
their  souls.  But  the  shadow  of  the  former  stretched  also 
over  other  villages,  far  beyond  the  ring  of  the  wooded  hor 
izon.  The  number  of  his  serfs  was  ten  thousand,  and  his 
rule  over  them  was  even  less  disputed  than  theirs  over 
their  domestic  animals. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  place  had  noticed  with  dismay 
that  the  slumber-flag  had  not  been  hoisted  on  the  castle, 
although  it  was  half  an  hour  after  the  usual  time.  So 
rare  a  circumstance  betokened  sudden  wrath  or  disaster, 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  9 

on  the  part  of  Prince  Alexis.  Long  experience  had  pre 
pared  the  people  for  anything  that  might  happen,  and 
they  were  consequently  not  astonished  at  the  singular 
event  which  presently  transpired. 

The  fact  is,  that  in  the  first  place,  the  dinner  had  been 
prolonged  full  ten  minutes  beyond  its  accustomed  limit, 
owing  to  a  discussion  between  the  Prince,  his  wife,  the 
Princess  Martha,  and  their  son  Prince  Boris.  The  last 
was  to  leave  for  St.  Petersburg  in  a  fortnight,  and  wished 
to  have  his  departure  preceded  by  a  festival  at  the  castle. 
The  Princess  Martha  was  always  ready  to  second  the  de 
sires  of  her  only  child.  Between  the  two  they  had 
pressed  some  twenty  or  thirty  thousand  rubles  out  of  the 
old  Prince,  for  the  winter  diversions  of  the  young  one. 
The  festival,  to  be  sure,  wou)d  have  been  a  slight  expend 
iture  for  a  noble  of  such  immense  wealth  as  Prince  Alex 
is  ;  but  he  never  liked  his  wife,  and  he  took  a  stubborn 
pleasure  in  thwarting  her  wishes.  It  was  no  satisfaction 
that  Boris  resembled  her  in  character.  That  weak  suc 
cessor  to  the  sovereignty  of  Kinesma  preferred  a  game 
of  cards  to  a  bear  hunt,  and  could  never  drink  more  than 
a  quart  of  vodki  without  becoming  dizzy  and  sick. 

"  Ugh  !  "  Prince  Alexis  would  cry,  with  a  shudder  of 
disgust,  "  the  whelp  barks  after  the  dam  !  " 

A  state  dinner  he  might  give  ;  but  a  festival,  with 
dances,  dramatic  representations,  burning  tar-barrels,  and 
cannon, — no  !  He  knitted  his  heavy  brows  and  drank 
deeply,  and  his  fiery  gray  eyes  shot  such  incessant  glances 
-from  side  to  side  that  Boris  and  the  Princess  Martha 


10         BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

could  not  exchange  a  single  wink  of  silent  advice.  The 
pet  bear,  Mishka,  plied  with  strong  wines,  which  Prince 
Alexis  poured  out  for  him  into  a  golden  basin,  became  at 
last  comically  drunk,  and  in  endeavoring  to  execute  a 
dance,  lost  his  balance,  and  fell  at  full  length  on  his  back. 

The  Prince  burst  into  a  yelling,  shrieking  fit  of  laugh 
ter.  Instantly  the  yellow-haired  serfs  in  waiting,  the  Cal- 
mucks  at  the  hall-door,  and  the  half-witted  dwarf  who 
crawled  around  the  table  in  his  tow  shirt,  began  laughing 
in  chorus,  as  violently  as  they  could.  The  Princess  Mar 
tha  and  Prince  Boris  laughed  also;  and  while  the  old 
man's  eyes  were  dimmed  with  streaming  tears  of  mirth, 
quickly  exchanged  nods.  The  sound  extended  all  over 
the  castle,  and  was  heard  outside  of  the  walls. 

"  Father  !  "  said  Boris,  "  let  us  have  the  festival,  and 
Mishka  shall  perform  again.  Prince  Paul  of  Kostroma 
would  strangle,  if  he  could  see  him." 

"  Good,  by  St.  Vladimir  !  "  exclaimed  Prince  Alexis. 
"  Thou  shalt  have  it,  my  Borka !  *  Where's  Simon  Pe- 
trovitch  ?  May  the  Devil  scorch  that  vagabond,  if  he 
doesn't  do  better  than  the  last  time  !  Sasha  ! " 

A  broad-shouldered  serf  stepped  forward  and  stood 
with  bowed  head. 

"  Lock  up  Simon  Petrovitch  in  the  southwestern 
tower.  Send  the  tailor  and  the  girls  to  him,  to  learn 
their  parts.  Search  every  one  of  them  before  they  go  in, 
and  if  any  one  dares  to  carry  vodki  to  the  beast,  twenty- 
five  lashes  on  the  back  !  " 

*  Little  Boris. 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    LEAST.  II 

Sasha  bowed  again  and  departed.  Simon  Tetrovitch 
was  the  court-poet  of  Kinesma.  He  had  a  mechanical 
knack  of  preparing  allegorical  diversions  which  suited 
the  conventional  taste  of  society  at  that  time ;  but  he  had 
also  a  failing, — he  was  rarely  sober  enough  to  write. 
Prince  Alexis,  therefore,  was  in  the  habit  of  locking  him 
up  and  placing  a  guard  over  him,  until  the  inspiration 
had  done  its  work.  The  most  comely  young  serfs  of  both 
sexes  were  selected  to  perform  the  parts,  and  the  court- 
tailor  arranged  for  them  the  appropriate  dresses.  It  de 
pended  very  much  upon  accident — that  is  to  say,  the  mood 
of  Prince  Alexis — whether  Simon  Petrovitch  was  reward 
ed  with  stripes  or  rubles. 

The  matter  thus  settled,  the  Prince  rose  from  the 
table  and  walked  out  upon  an  overhanging  balcony, 
where  an  immense  reclining  arm-chair  of  stuffed  leather 
was  ready  for  his  siesta.  He  preferred  this  indulgence  in 
the  open  air ;  and  although  the  weather  was  rapidly  grow 
ing  cold,  a  pelisse  of  sables  enabled  him  to  slumber 
sweetly  in  the  face  of  the  north  wind.  An  attendant 
stood  with  the  pelisse  outspread ;  another  held  the  hal 
yards  to  which  was  attached  the  great  red  slumber-flag, 
ready  to  run  it  up  and  announce  to  all  Kinesma  that  the 
noises  of  the  town  must  cease  ;  a  few  seconds  more,  and 
all  things  would  have  been  fixed  in  their  regular  daily 
courses.  The  Prince,  in  fact,  was  just  straightening  his 
shoulders  to  receive  the  sables;  his  eyelids  were  drop 
ping,  and  his  eyes,  sinking  mechanically  with  them,  fell 
upon  the  river-road,  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  Along  this 


12  BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST. 

road  walked  a  man,  wearing  the  long  cloth  caftan  of  a 
merchant. 

Prince  Alexis  started,  and  all  slumber  vanished  out 
of  his  eyes.  He  leaned  forward  for  a  moment,  with  a 
quick,  eager  expression  ;  then  a  loud  roar,  like  that  of 
an  enraged  wild  beast,  burst  from  his  mouth.  He  gave  a 
stamp  that  shook  the  balcony. 

"  Dog ! "  he  cried  to  the  trembling  attendent,  "  my 
cap  !  my  whip  !  " 

The  sables  fell  upon  the  floor,  the  cap  and  whip  ap 
peared  in  a  twinkling,  and  the  red  slumber-flag  was  folded 
up  again  for  the  first  time  in  several  years,  as  the  Prince 
stormed  out  of  the  castle.  The  traveller  below  had  heard 
the  cry, — for  it  might  have  been  heard  half  a  mile.  He 
seemed  to  have  a  presentiment  of  evil,  for  he  had  already 
set  off  towards  the  town  at  full  speed. 

To  explain  the  occurence,  we  must  mention  one  of 
the  Prince's  many  peculiar  habits.  This  was,  to  invite 
strangers  or  merchants  of  the  neighborhood  to  dine  with 
him,  and,  after  regaling  them  bountifully,  to  take  his  pay 
in  subjecting  them  to  all  sorts  of  outrageous  tricks,  with 
the  help  of  his  band  of  willing  domestics.  Now  this  par 
ticular  merchant  had  been  invited,  and  had  attended  ; 
but,  being  a  very  wide-awake,  shrewd  person,  he  saw 
what  was  coming,  and  dexterously  slipped  away  from  the 
banquet  without  being  perceived.  The  Prince  vowed 
vengeance,  on  discovering  the  escape,  and  he  was  not  a 
man  to  forget  his  word. 

Impelled  by  such  opposite  passions,  both  parties  ran 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  13 

with  astonishing  speed.  The  merchant  was  the  taller, 
but  his  long  caftan,  hastily  ungirdled,  swung  behind  him 
and  dragged  in  the  air.  The  short,  booted  legs  of  the 
Prince  beat  quicker  time,  and  he  grasped  his  short, 
heavy,  leathern  whip  more  tightly  as  he  saw  the  space 
diminishing.  They  dashed  into  the  town  of  Kinesma  a 
hundred  yards  apart.  The  merchant  entered  the  main 
street,  or  bazaar,  looking  rapidly  to  right  and  left,  as  he 
ran,  in  the  hope  of  espying  some  place  of  refuge.  The 
terrible  voice  behind  him  cried, — 

"  Stop,  scoundrel !    I  have  a  crow  to  pick  with  you  !  " 

And  the  tradesmen  in  their  shops  looked  on  and 
laughed,  as  well  they  might,  being  unconcerned  specta 
tors  of  the  fun.  The  fugitive,  therefore,  kept  straight  on, 
notwithstanding  a  pond  of  water  glittered  across  the 
farther  end  of  the  street. 

Although  Prince  Alexis  had  gained  considerably  in 
the  race,  such  violent  exercise,  after  a  heavy  dinner,  de 
prived  him  of  breath.  He  again  cried, — 

"  Stop ! " 

"  But  the  merchant  answered, — 

"  No,  Highness !  You  may  come  to  me,  but  I  will 
not  go  to  you  " 

"  Oh,  the  villian ! "  growled  the  Prince,  in  a  hoarse 
whisper,  for  he  had  no  more  voice. 

The  pond  cut  of  all  further  pursuit.  Hastily  kicking 
off  his  loose  boots,  the  merchant  plunged  into  the  water, 
rather  than  encounter  the  princely  whip,  which  already 
began  to  crack  and  snap  in  fierce  anticipation.  Prince 


14  BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST. 

Alexis  kicked  off  his  boots  and  followed  ;  the  pond  grad 
ually  deepened,  and  in  a  minute  the  tall  merchant  stood 
up  to  his  chin  in  the  icy  water,  and  his  short  pursuer  like 
wise  but  out  of  striking  distance.  The  latter  coaxed  and 
entreated,  but  the  victim  kept  his  ground. 

"  You  lie,  Highness !  "  he  said,  boldly.  "  If  you  want 
me,  come  to  me." 

"  Ah-h-h  !  "  roared  the  Prince,  with  chattering  teeth, 
"  what  a  stubborn  rascal  you  are  !  Come  here,  and  I 
give  you  my  word  that  I  will  not  hurt  you.  Nay," — see 
ing  that  the  man  did  not  move, — "  you  shall  dine  with 
me  as  often  as  you  please.  You  shall  be  my  friend  ;  by 
St.  Vladimir,  I  like  you  !" 

"  Make  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  swear  it  by  all  the 
Saints,"  said  the  merchant,  composedly. 

With  a  grim  smile  on  his  face,  the  Prince  stepped 
back  and  shiveringly  obeyed.  Both  then  waded  out,  sat 
down  upon  the  ground  and  pulled  on  their  boots ;  and 
presently  the  people  of  Kinesma  beheld  the  dripping  pair 
walking  side  by  side  up  the  street,  conversing  in  the  most 
cordial  manner.  The  merchant  dried  his  clothes  from 
within,  at  the  castle  table  ;  a  fresh  keg  of  old  Cognac  was 
opened ;  and  although  the  slumber-flag  was  not  unfurled 
that  afternoon,  it  flew  from  the  staff  and  hushed  the  town 
nearly  all  the  next  day. 

III. 

THE  festival  granted  on  behalf  of  Prince  Boris  was 
one  of  the  grandest  ever  given  at  the  castle.  In  charac 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  1 5 

ter  it  was  a  singular  cross  between  the  old  Muscovite 
revel  and  the  French  entertainments  which  were  then  in 
troduced  by  the  Empress  Elizabeth.  All  the  nobility,  for 
fifty  versts  around,  including  Prince  Paul  and  the  chief 
families  of  Kostroma,  were  invited.  Simon  Petrovitch 
had  been  so  carefully  guarded  that  his  work  was  actually 
completed  and  the  parts  distributed  ;  his  superintendence 
of  the  performance,  however,  was  still  a  matter  of  doubt, 
as  it  was  necessary  to  release  him  from  the  tower,  and 
after  several  days  of  forced  abstinence  he  always  mani 
fested  a  raging  appetite.  Prince  Alexis,  in  spite  of  this 
doubt,  had  been  assured  by  Boris  that  the  dramatic  part 
of  the  entertainment  would  not  be  a  failure.  When  he 
questioned  Sasha,  the  poet's  strong-shouldered  guard,  the 
latter  winked  familiarly  and  answered  with  a  proverb, — 

"  I  sit  on  the  shore  and  wait  for  the  wind," — which 
was  as  much  as  to  say  that  Sasha  had  little  fear  of  the 
result 

The  tables  were  spread  in  the  great  hall,  where  places 
for  one  hundred  chosen  guests  were  arranged  on  the 
floor,  while  the  three  or  four  hundred  of  minor  importance 
were  provided  for  in  the  galleries  above.  By  noon  the 
whole  party  were  assembled.  The  halls  and  passages 
of  the  castle  were  already  permeated  with  rich  and  unc- 
.tuous  smells,  and  a  delicate  nose  might  have  picked  out 
and  arranged,  by  their  finer  or  coarser  vapors,  the  dishes 
preparing  for  the  upper  and  lower  tables.  One  of  the 
parasites  of  Prince  Alexis,  a  dilapidated  nobleman,  offici 
ated  as  Grand  Marshal, — an  office  which  more  than  com- 


1 6  BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST. 

pensated  for  the  savage  charity  he  received,  for  it  was  per 
formed  in  continual  fear  and  trembling.  The  Prince  had 
felt  the  stick  of  the  Great  Peter  upon  his  own  back,  and 
was  ready  enough  to  imitate  any  custom  of  the  famous 
monarch. 

An  orchestra,  composed  principally  of  horns  and  brass 
instruments,  occupied  a  separate  gallery  at  one  end  of  the 
dining-hall.  The  guests  were  assembled  in  the  adjoining 
apartments,  according  to  their  rank ;  and  when  the  first 
loud  blast  of  the  instruments  announced  the  beginning  of 
the  banquet,  two  very  differently  attired  and  freighted 
processions  of  servants  made  their  appearance  at  the  same 
time.  Those  intended  for  the  princely  table  numbered 
two  hundred, — two  for  each  guest.  They  were  the  hand 
somest  young  men  among  the  ten  thousand  serfs,  clothed 
in  loose  white  trousers  and  shirts  of  pink  or  lilac  silk  ; 
their  soft  golden  hair,  parted  in  the  middle,  fell  upon  their 
shoulders,  and  a  band  of  gold-thread  about  the  brow  pre 
vented  it  from  sweeping  the  dishes  they  carried.  They 
entered  the  reception-room,  bearing  huge  trays  of  sculp 
tured  silver,  upon  which  were  anchovies,  the  finest  Finnish 
caviar,  sliced  oranges,  cheese,  and  crystal  flagons  of  Cog 
nac,  rum,  and  kiimmel.  There  were  fewer  servants  for 
the  remaining  guests,  who  were  gathered  in  a  separate 
chamber,  and  regaled  with  the  common  black  caviar, 
onions,  bread,  and  vodki.  At  the  second  blast  of  trum 
pets,  the  two  companies  set  themselves  in  motion  and  en 
tered  the  dining-hall  at  opposite  ends.  Our  business, 
however,  is  only  with  the  principal  personages,  so  we  will 


BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST.         I/ 

allow  the  common  crowd  quietly  to  mount  to  the  galleries 
and  satisfy  their  senses  with  the  coarser  viands,  while  their 
imagination  is  stimulated  by  the  sight  of  the  splendor  and 
luxury  below. 

Prince  Alexis  entered  first,  with  a  pompous,  mincing 
gait,  leading  the  Princess  Martha  by  the  tips  of  her  fin 
gers.  He  wore  a  caftan  of  green  velvet  laced  with  gold, 
a  huge  vest  of  crimson  brocade,  and  breeches  of  yellow 
satin.  A  wig,  resembling  clouds  boiling  in  the  confluence 
of  opposing  winds,  surged  from  his  low,  broad  forehead, 
and  flowed  upon  his  shoulders.  As  his  small,  fiery  eyes 
swept  the  hall,  every  servant  trembled  :  he  was  as  severe 
at  the  commencement  as  he  was  reckless  at  the  close  of  a 
banquet.  The  Princess  Martha  wore  a  robe  of  pink  satin 
embroidered  with  flowers  made  of  small  pearls,  and  a 
train  and  head-dress  of  crimson  velvet.  Her  emeralds 
were  the  finest  outside  of  Moscow,  and  she  wore  them  all. 
Her  pale,  weak,  frightened  face  was  quenched  in  the  daz 
zle  of  the  green  fires  which  shot  from  her  forehead,  ears, 
and  bosom,  as  she  moved. 

Prince  Paul  of  Kostroma  and  the  Princess  Nadejda 
followed ;  but  on  reaching  the  table,  the  gentlemen  took 
their  seats  at  the  head,  while  the  ladies  marched  down  to 
the  foot.  Their  seats  were  determined  by  their  relative 
rank,  and  woe  to  him  who  was  so  ignorant  or  so  absent- 
minded  as  to  make  a  mistake  !  The  servants  had  been 
carefully  trained  in  advance  by  the  Grand  Marshal  ;  and 
whoever  took  a  place  above  his  rank  or  importance  found, 
when  he  came  to  sit  down,  that  his  chair  had  miraculously 


1 8  BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST. 

disappeared,  or,  not  noticing  the  fact,  seated  himself  ab 
surdly  and  violently  upon  the  floor.  The  Prince  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  and  the  Princess  at  the  foot,  with  their 
nearest  guests  of  equal  rank,  ate  from  dishes  of  massive 
gold  ;  the  others  from  silver.  As  soon  as  the  last  of  the 
company  had  entered  the  hall,  a  crowd  of  jugglers,  tum 
blers,  dwarfs,  and  Cahnucks  followed,  crowding  them 
selves  into  the  corners  under  the  galleries,  where  they 
awaited  the  conclusion  of  the  banquet  to  display  their 
tricks,  and  scolded  and  pummelled  each  other  in  the 
mean  time. 

On  one  side  of  Prince  Alexis  the  bear  Mishka  took 
his  station.  By  order  of  Prince  Boris  he  had  been  kept 
from  wine  for  several  days,  and  his  small  eyes  were  keen 
er  and  hungrier  than  usual.  As  he  rose  now  and  then, 
impatiently,  and  sat  upon  his  hind  legs,  he  formed  a  curi 
ous  contrast  to  the  Prince's  other  supporter,  the  idiot,  who 
sat  also  in  his  tow-shirt,  with  a  large  pewter  basin  in  his 
hand.  It  was  difficult  to  say  whether  the  beast  was  most 
man  or  the  man  most  beast.  They  eyed  each  other  and 
watched  the  motions  of  their  lord  with  equal  jealousy ; 
and  the  dismal  whine  of  the  bear  found  an  echo  in  the 
drawling,  slavering  laugh  of  the  idiot.  The  Prince  glanced 
form  one  to  the  other ;  they  put  him  in  a  capital  humor, 
which  was  not  lessened  as  he  perceived  an  expression  of 
envy  pass  over  the  face  of  Prince  Paul. 

The  dinner  commenced  with  a  botvinia — something 
between  a  soup  and  a  salad — of  wonderful  composition. 
It  contained  cucumbers,  cherries,  salt  fish,  melons,  bread, 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  1 9 

salt,  pepper,  and  wine.  While  it  was  being  served,  four 
huge  fishermen,  dressed  to  represent  mermen  of  the  Volga, 
naked  to  the  waist,  with  hair  crowned  with  reeds,  legs 
finned  with  silver  tissue  from  the  knees  downward,  and 
preposterous  scaly  tails,  which  dragged  helplessly  upon 
the  floor,  entered  the  hall,  bearing  a  broad,  shallow  tank 
of  silver.  In  the  tank  flapped  and  swam  four  superb  ster 
lets,  their  ridgy  backs  rising  out  of  the  water  like  those 
of  alligators.  Great  applause  welcomed  this  new  and 
classical  adaptation  of  the  old  custom  of  showing  the  living 
fish,  before  cooking  them,  to  the  guests  at  the  table.  The 
invention  was  due  to  Simon  Petrovitch,  and  was  (if  the 
truth  must  be  confessed)  the  result  of  certain  carefully 
measured  supplies  of  brandy  which  Prince  Boris  himself 
had  carried  to  the  imprisoned  poet. 

After  the  sterlets  had  melted  away  to  their  backbones, 
and  the  roasted  geese  had  shrunk  into  drumsticks  and 
breastplates,  and  here  and  there  a  guest's  ears  began  to 
redden  with  more  rapid  blood,  Prince  Alexis  judged  that 
the  time  for  diversion  had  arrived.  He  first  filled  up  the 
idiot's  basin  with  fragments  of  all  the  dishes  within  his 
reach, — fish,  stewed  fruits,  goose  fat,  bread,  boiled  cabbage, 
and  beer, — the  idiot  grinning  with  delight  all  the  while, 
and  singing,  "Neuyesjdi  golubchik  moi"  (Don't  go  away, 
my  little  pigeon),  between  the  handfuls  which  he  crammed 
into  his  mouth.  The  guests  roared  with  laughter,  espec 
ially  when  a  juggler  or  Calmuck  stole  out  from  under  the 
gallery,  and  pretended  to  have  designs  upon  the  basin. 
Mishka,  the  bear,  had  also  been  well  fed,  and  greedily 


2O          BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

drank  ripe  old  Malaga  from  the  golden  dish.  But,  alas ! 
he  would  not  dance.  Sitting  up  on  his  hind  legs,  with  his 
fore  paws  hanging  before  him,  he  cast  a  drunken,  lan 
guishing  eye  upon  the  company,  lolled  out  his  tongue, 
and  whined  with  an  almost  human  voice.  The  domestics, , 
secretly  incited  by  the  Grand  Marshal,  exhausted  their 
ingenuity  in  coaxing  him,  but  in  vain.  Finally,  one  of 
them  took  a  goblet  of  wine  in  one  hand,  and,  embracing 
Mishka  with  the  other,  began  to  waltz.  The  bear 
stretched  out  his  paw  and  clumsily  followed  the  move 
ments,  whirling  round  and  round  after  the  enticing  goblet. 
The  orchestra  struck  up,  and  the  spectacle,  though  not 
exactly  what  Prince  Alexis  wished,  was  comical  enough 
to  divert  the  company  immensely. 

But  the  close  of  the  performance  was  not  upon  the 
programme.  The  impatient  bear,  getting  no  nearer  his 
goblet,  hugged  the  man  violently  with  the  other  paw, 
striking  his  claws  through  the  thin  shirt.  The  dance- 
measure  was  lost ;  the  legs  of  the  two  tangled,  and  they 
fell  to  the  floor,  the  bear  undermost.  With  a  growl  of 
rage  and  disappointment,  he  brought  his  teeth  together 
through  the  man's  arm,  and  it  might  have  fared  badly  with 
the  latter,  had  not  the  goblet  been  refilled  by  some  one 
and  held  to  the  animal's  nose.  Then,  releasing  his  hold, 
he  sat  up  again,  drank  another  bottle,  and  staggered  out 
of  the  hall. 

Now  the  health  of  Prince  Alexis  was  drunk, — by  the 
guests  on  the  floor  of  the  hall  in  Champagne,  by  those  in 
the  galleries  in  kislischi  and  hydromel.  The  orchestra 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  21 

played  ;  a  choir  of  serfs  sang  an  ode  by  Simon  Petrovitch, 
in  which  the  departure  of  Prince  Boris  was  mentioned ; 
the  tumblers  began  to  posture ;  the  jugglers  came  forth 
and  played  their  tricks ;  and  the  cannon  on  the  ramparts 
announced  to  all  Kinesma,  and  far  up  and  down  the  Volga, 
that  the  company  were  rising  from  the  table. 

Half  an  hour  later,  the  great  red  slumber-flag  floated 
over  the  castle.  All  slept, — except  the  serf  with  the 
wounded  arm,  the  nervous  Grand  Marshal,  and  Simon  Pe- 
trovich  with  his  band  of  dramatists,  guarded  by  the  inde 
fatigable  Sasha.  All  others  slept, — and  the  curious  crowd 
outside,  listening  to  the  music,  stole  silently  away ;  down 
in  Kinesma,  the  mothers  ceased  to  scold  their  children, 
and  the  merchants  whispered  to  each  other  in  the  bazaar ; 
the  captains  of  vessels  floating  on  the  Volga  directed  their 
men  by  gestures  ;  the  mechanics  laid  aside  hammer  and 
axe,  and  lighted  their  pipes.  Great  silence  fell  upon  the 
land,  and  continued  unbroken  so  long  as  Prince  Alexis 
and  his  guests  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just  and  the  tipsy. 

By  night,  however,  they  were  all  awake  and  busily  pre 
paring  for  the  diversions  of  the  evening-.  The  ball-room . 
was  illuminated  by  thousands  of  wax-lights,  so  connected 
with  inflammable  threads,  that  the  wicks  could  all  be  kin 
dled  in  a  moment.  A  pyramid  of  tar-barrels  had  been 
erected  on  each  side  of  the  castle-gate,  and  every  hill  or 
mound  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  Volga  was  similarly 
crowned.  When,  to  a  stately  march, — the  musicians  blow 
ing  their  loudest, — Prince  Alexis  and  Princess  Martha  led 
the  way  to  the  ball-room,  the  signal  was  given  :  candles 


22         BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

and  tar-barrels  burst  into  flame,  and  not  only  within  the 
castle,  but  over  the  landscape  for  five  or  six  versts,  around 
everything  was  bright  and  clear  in  the  fiery  day.  Then 
the  noises  of  Kinesma  were  not  only  permitted,  but  en 
couraged.  Mead  and  qvass  flowed  in  the  very  streets,  and 
the  castle- trumpets  could  not  be  heard  for  the  sound  of 
troikas  and  balalaikas. 

After  the  Polonaise,  and  a  few  stately  minuets,  (copied 
from  the  court  of  Elizabeth),  the  company  were  ushered 
into  the  theatre.  The  hour  of  Simon  Petrovitch  had 
struck:  with  the  inspiration  smuggled  to  him  by  Prince 
Boris,  he  had  arranged  a  performance  which  he  felt  to  be 
his  masterpiece.  Anxiety  as  to  its  reception  kept  him  so 
ber.  The  overture  had  ceased,  the  spectators  were  all 
in  their  seats,  and  now  the  curtain  rose.  The  background 
was  a  growth  of  enormous,  sickly  toad-stools,  supposed  to 
be  clouds.  On  the  stage  stood  a  girl  of  eighteen,  (the 
handsomest  in  Kinesma),  in  hoops  and  satin  petticoat, 
powdered  hair,  patches,  and  high-heeled  shoes.  She  held 
a  fan  in  one  hand,  and  a  bunch  of  marigolds  in  the  other. 
After  a  deep  and  graceful  curtsy  to  the  company,  she  came 
forward  and  said, — 

"  I  am  the  goddess  Venus.  I  have  come  to  Olympus 
to  ask  some  questions  of  Jupiter." 

Thunder  was  heard,  and  a  car  rolled  upon  the  stage. 
Jupiter  sat  therein,  in  a  blue  coat,  yellow  vest,  ruffled  shirt 
and  three-cornered  hat.  One  hand  held  a  bunch  of  thun 
derbolts,  which  he  occasionally  lifted  and  shook ;  the  oth 
er,  a  gold-headed  cane. 


BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST.         23 

"  Here  am,  I  Jupiter,"  said  he  ;  "  what  does  Venus 
desire  ? " 

A  poetical  dialogue  then  followed,  to  the  effect  that 
the  favorite  of  the  goddess,  Prince  Alexis  of  Kinesma,  was 
about  sending  his  son,  Prince  Boris,  into  the  gay  world, 
wherein  himself  had  already  displayed  all  the  gifts  of  all 
the  divinities  of  Olympus.  He  claimed  from  her,  Venus, 
like  favors  for  his  son  :  was  it  possible  to  grant  them  ?  Ju 
piter  dropped  his  head  and  meditated.  He  could  not  an 
swer  the  question  at  once  :  Apollo,  the  Graces,  and  the 
Muses  must  be  consulted  :  there  were  few  precedents 
where  the  son  had  succeeded  in  rivalling  the  father, — yet  the 
father's  pious  wishes  could  not  be  overlooked. 

Venus  said, — 

"  What  I  asked  for  Prince  Alexis  was  for  his  sake : 
what  I  ask  for  the  son  is  for  the  father's  sake." 

Jupiter  shook  his  thunderbolt  and  called  "  Apollo  !  " 

Instantly  the  stage  was  covered  with  explosive  and 
coruscating  fires,  —  red,  blue,  and  golden,  —  and  amid 
smoke,  and  glare,  and  fizzing  noises,  and  strong  chemical 
smells,  Apollo  dropped  down  from  above.  He  was  accus 
tomed  to  heat  and  smoke,  being  the  cook's  assistant,  and 
was  sweated  down  to  a  weight  capable  of  being  supported 
by  the  invisible  wires.  He  wore  a  yellow  caftan,  and 
wide  blue  silk  trousers.  His  yellow  hair  was  twisted 
around  and  glued  fast  to  gilded  sticks,  which  stood  out 
from  his  head  in  a  circle,  and  represented  rays  of  light. 
He  first  bowed  to  Prince  Alexis,  then  to  the  guests,  then  to 
Jupiter,  then  to  Venus.  The  matter  was  explained  to  him 


24  BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST. 

He  promised  to  do  what  he  could  towards  favoring  the 
world  with  a  second  generation  of  the  beauty,  grace,  intel 
lect,  and  nobility  of  character  which  had  already  won  his 
regard.  He  thought,  however,  that  their  gifts  were  unnec 
essary,  since  the  model  was  already  in  existence,  and 
nothing  more  could  be  done  than  to  imitate  it. 

(Here  there  was  another  meaning  bow  towards  Prince 
Alexis, — a  bow  in  which  Jupiter  and  Venus  joined.  This 
was  the  great  point  of  the  evening,  in  the  opinion  of  Simon 
Petrovitch.  He  peeped  through  a  hole  in  one  of  the 
clouds,  and,  seeing  the  delight  of  Prince  Alexis  and  the 
congratulations  of  his  friends,  immediately  took  a  large  glass 
of  Cognac). 

The  Graces  were  then  summoned,  and  after  them  the 
Muses, — all  in  hoops,  powder,  and  paint.  Their  songs 
had  the  same  burden, — intense  admiration  of  the  father, 
and  good-will  for  the  son,  underlaid  with  a  delicate  doubt. 
The  close  was  a  chorus  of  all  the  deities  and  semi-deities 
in  praise  of  the  old  Prince,  with  the  accompaniment  of 
fireworks.  Apollo  rose  through  the  air  like  a  frog,  with 
his  blue  legs  and  yellow  arms  wide  apart ;  Jupiter's  char 
iot  rolled  off;  Venus  bowed  herself  back  against  a  moul 
dy  cloud ;  and  the  Muses  came  forward  in  a  bunch,  with 
a  wreath  of  laurel,  which  they  placed  upon  the  venerated 
head. 

Sasha  was  dispatched  to  bring  the  poet,  that  he  might 
receive  his  well-earned  praise  and  reward.  But  alas  for 
Simon  Petrovitch  ?  His  legs  had  already  doubled  under 
him.  He  was  awarded  fifty  rubles  and  a  new  caftan, 


BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST.         25 

which  he  was  not  in  a  condition  to  accept  until  several 
days  afterward. 

The  supper  which  followed  resembled  the  dinner,  ex 
cept  that  there  were  fewer  dishes  and  more  bottles.  When 
the  closing  course  of  sweatmeats  had  either  been  consumed 
or  transferred  to  the  pockets  of  the  guests,  the  Princess 
Martha  retired  with  the  ladies.  The  guests  of  lower  rank 
followed  ;  and  there  remained  only  some  fifteen  or  twen 
ty,  who  were  thereupon  conducted  by  Prince  Alexis  to  a 
smaller  chamber,  where  he  pulled  off  his  coat,  lit  his  pipe, 
and  called  for  brandy.  The  others  followed  his  example, 
and  their  revelry  wore  out  the  night. 

Such  was  the  festival  which  preceded  the  departure  of 
Prince  Boris  for  St.  Petersburg. 

IV. 

BEFORE  following  the  young  Prince  and  his  fortunes, 
in  the  capital,  we  must  relate  two  incidents  which  some 
what  disturbed  the  ordered  course  of  life  in  the  castle  of 
Kinesma,  during  the  first  month  or  two  after  his  departure. 

It  must  be  stated,  as  one  favorable  trait  in  the  charac 
ter  of  Prince  Alexis,  that,  however  brutally  he  treated  his 
serfs,  he  allowed  no  other  man  to  oppress  them.  All  they 
had  and  were — their  services,  bodies,  lives — belonged  to 
him  ;  hence  injustice  towards  them  was  disrespect  towards 
their  lord.  Under  the  fear  which  his  barbarity  inspired 
lurked  a  brute-like  attachment,  kept  alive  by  the  recogni 
tion  of  this  quality. 


26         BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

One  day  it  was  reported  to  him  that  Gregor,  a  merchant 
in  the  bazaar  at  Kinesma,  had  cheated  the  wife  of  one  of 
his  serfs  in  the  purchase  of  a  piece  of  cloth.  Mounting 
his  horse,  he  rode  at  once  to  Gregor's  booth,  called  for 
the  cloth,  and  sent  the  entire  piece  to  the  woman,  in  the 
merchant's  name,  as  a  confessed  act  of  reparation. 

"  Now,  Gregor,  my  child,"  said  he,  as  he  turned  his 
horse's  head,  "  have  a  care  in  future,  and  play  me  no  more 
dishonest  tricks.  Do  you  hear  ?  I  shall  come  and  take 
your  business  in  hand  myself,  if  the  like  happens  again." 

Not  ten  days  passed  before  the  like — or  something 
fully  as  bad — did  happen.  Gregor  must  have  been  a 
new  comer  in  Kinesma,  or  he  would  not  have  tried  the 
experiment.  In  an  hour  from  the  time  it  was  announced, 
Prince  Alexis  appeared  in  the  bazaar  with  a  short  whip 
under  his  arm. 

He  dismounted  at  the  booth  with  an  ironical  smile  on 
his  face,  which  chilled  the  very  marrow  in  the  merchant's 
bones. 

"  Ah,  Gregor,  my  child,"  he  shouted,  "  you  have  al 
ready  forgotten  my  commands.  Holy  St.  Nicholas,  what 
a  bad  memory  the  boy  has  !  Why,  he  can't  be  trusted  to 
do  business  :  I  must  attend  to  the  shop  myself.  Out  of 
the  way  !  march  ! " 

He  swung  his  terrible  whip  ;  and  Gregor,  with  his  two 
assistants,  darted  under  the  counter,  and  made  their  es 
cape.  The  Prince  then  entered  the  booth,  took  up  a 
yard-stick,  and  cried  out  in  a  voice  which  could  be  beard 
from  one  end  of  the  town  to  the  other, — "  Ladies  and 


BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST.         2/ 

gentlemen,  have  the  kindness  to  come  and  examine  our 
stock  of  goods !  We  have  silks  and  satins,  and  all  kinds 
of  ladies'  wear ;  also  velvet,  cloth,  cotton,  and  linen  for 
the  gentlemen.  Will  your  Lordships  deign  to  choose? 
Here  are  stockings  and  handkerchiefs  of  the  finest.  We 
understand  how  to  measure,  your  Lordships,  and  we  sell 
cheap.  We  give  no  change,  and  take  no  small  money. 
Whoever  has  no  cash  may  have  credit.  Every  thing  sold 
below  cost,  on  account  of  closing  up  the  establishment. 
Ladies  and  gentlemen,  give  us  a  call  ?  " 

Everybody  in  Kinesma  flocked  to  the  booth,  and  for 
three  hours  Prince  Alexis  measured  and  sold,  either  for 
scant  cash  or  long  credit,  until  the  last  article  had  been 
disposed  of  and  the  shelves  were  empty.  There  was 
great  rejoicing  in  the  community  over  the  bargains  made 
that  day.  When  all  was  over,  Gregor  was  summoned, 
and  the  cash  received  paid  into  his  hands. 

"  It  won't  take  you  long  to  count  it,"  said  the  Prince  ; 
but  here  is  a  list  of  debts  to  be  collected,  which  will  fur 
nish  you  with  pleasant  occupation,  and  enable  you  to  ex 
ercise  your  memory.  Would  your  Worship  condescend 
to  take  dinner  to-day  with  your  humble  assistant  ?  He 
would  esteem  it  a  favor  to  be  permitted  to  wait  upon  you 
with  whatever  his  poor  house  can  supply." 

Gregor  gave  a  glance  at  the  whip  under  the  Prince's 
arm,  and  begged  to  be  excused.  But  the  latter  would 
take  no  denial,  and  carried  out  the  comedy  to  the  end 
by  giving  the  merchant  the  place  of  honor  at  his  table, 
and  dismissing  him  with  the  present  of  a  fine  pup  of  his 


28         BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

favorite  breed.  Perhaps  the  animal  acted  as  a  mnemonic 
symbol,  for  Gregor  was  never  afterwards  accused  of  for 
ge  tfulness. 

If  this  trick  put  the  Prince  in  a  good  humor,  some' 
thing  presently  occurred  which  carried  him  to  the  oppo 
site  extreme.  While  taking  his  customary  siesta  one  af 
ternoon,  a  wild  young  fellow — one  of  his  noble  poor  rela 
tions,  who  "  sponged  "  at  the  castle — happened  to  pass 
along  a  corridor  outside  of  the  very  hall  where  his  High 
ness  was  snoring.  Two  ladies  in  waiting  looked  down 
from  an  upper  window.  The  young  fellow  perceived 
them,  and  made  signs  to  attract  their  attention.  Having 
succeeded  in  this,  he  attempted,  by  all  sorts  of  antics 
and  grimaces,  to  make  them  laugh  or  speak  ;  but  he  failed, 
for  the  slumber-flag  waved  over  them,  and  its  fear  was 
upon  them.  Then,  in  a  freak  of  incredible  rashness,  he 
sang,  in  a  loud  voice,  the  first  line  of  a  popular  ditty,  and 
took  to  his  heels. 

No  one  had  ever  before  dared  to  insult  the  sacred  quiet. 
The  Prince  was  on  his  feet  in  a  moment,  and  rushed  into 
the  corridor,  (dropping  his  mantle  of  sables  by  the  way,) 
shouting. — 

"  Bring  me  the  wretch  who  sang  !  " 

The  domestics  scattered  before  him,  for  his  face  was 
terrible  to  look  upon.  Some  of  them  had  heard  the  voice, 
indeed,  but  not  one  of  them  had  seen  the  culprit,  who  al 
ready  lay  upon  a  heap  of  hay  in  one  of  the  stables,  and 
appeared  to  be  sunk  in  innocent  sleep. 

"  Who  was  it  ?  who  was  it  ? "  yelled  the  Prince,  foam- 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  29 

ing  at  the  mouth  with  rage,  as  he  rushed  from  chamber  to 
chamber. 

At  last  he  halted  at  the  top  of  the  great  flight  of  steps 
leading  into  the  court-yard,  and  repeated  his  demand  in  a 
voice  of  thunder.  The  servants,  trembling,  kept  at  a  safe 
distance,  and  some  of  them  ventured  to  state  that  the  of 
fender  could  not  be  discovered.  The  Prince  turned  and 
entered  one  of  the  state  apartments,  whence  came  the 
sound  of  porcelain  smashed  on  the  floor,  and  mirrors 
shivered  on  the  walls.  Whenever  they  heard  that  sound, 
the  immates  of  the  castle  knew  that  a  hurricane  was  let 
loose. 

They  deliberated  hurriedly  and  anxiously.  What  was 
to  be  done  ?  In  his  fits  of  blind  animal  rage,  there  was 
nothing  of  which  the  Prince  was  not  capable,  and  the  fit 
could  be  allayed  only  by  finding  a  victim.  No  one,  how 
ever,  was  willing  to  be  a  Curtius  for  the  others,  and  mean 
while  the  storm  was  increasing  from  minute  to  minute. 
Some  of  the  more  active  and  shrewd  of  the  household 
pitched  upon  the  leader  of  the  band,  a  simple-minded, 
good-natured  serf,  named  Waska.  They  entreated  him 
to  take  upon  himself  the  crime  of  having  sung,  offering 
to  have  his  punishment  mitigated  in  every  possible  way. 
He  was  proof  against  their  tears,  but  not  against  the 
money  which  they  finally  offered,  in  order  to  avert  the 
storm.  The  agreement  was  made,  although  Waska  both 
scratched  his  head  and  shook  it,  as  he  reflected  upon  the 
probable  result. 

The  Prince,  after  his  work  of  destruction,  again  ap- 


30         BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

peared  upon  the  steps,  and  with  hoarse  voice  and  flashing 
eyes,  began  to  announce  that  every  soul  in  the  castle 
should  receive  a  hundred  lashes,  when  a  noise  was  heard 
in  the  court,  and  amid  cries  of  "  Here  he  is  !  "  "  We've 
got  him,  Highness  ! "  the  poor  Waska,  bound  hand  and 
foot,  was  brought  forward.  They  placed  him  at  the 
bottom  of  the  steps.  The  Prince  descended  until  the  two 
stood  face  to  face.  The  others  looked  on  from  court 
yard,  door,  and  window.  A  pause  ensued,  during  which 
no  one  dared  to  breathe. 

At  last  Prince  Alexis  spoke,  in  a  loud  and  terrible 
voice — 

"  It  was  you  who  sang  it  ? " 

"  Yes,  your  Highness,  it  was  I,"  Waska  replied,  in  a 
scarcely  audible  tone,  dropping  his  head  and  mechanic 
ally  drawing  his  shoulders  together,  as  if  shrinking  from 
the  coming  blow. 

It  was  full  three  minutes  before  the  Prince  again 
spoke.  He  still  held  the  whip  in  his  hand,  his  eyes  fixed 
and  the  muscles  of  his  face  rigid.  All  at  once  the  spell 
seemed  to  dissolve  :  his  hand  fell,  and  he  said  in  his  or 
dinary  voice — 

"  You  sing  remarkably  well.  Go,  now  :  you  shall 
have  ten  rubles  and  an  embroidered  caftan  for  your  sing 
ing." 

But  any  one  would  have  made  a  great  mistake  who 
dared  to  awaken  Prince  Alexis  a  second  time  in  the  same 
manner. 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  3! 

V. 

PRINCE  BORIS,  in  St.  Petersburg,  adopted  the  usual 
habits  of  his  class.  He  dressed  elegantly ;  he  drove  a 
dashing  troika  ;  he  played,  and  lost  more  frequently  than 
he  won  ;  he  took  no  special  pains  to  shun  any  form  of 
fashionable  dissipation.  His  money  went  fast,  it  is  true  ; 
but  twenty-five  thousand  rubles  was  a  large  sum  in  those 
days,  and  Boris  did  not  inherit  his  father's  expensive 
constitution.  He  was  presented  to  the  Empress  ;  but 
his  thin  face,  and  mild,  rnelancholy  eyes  did  not  make 
much  impression  upon  that  ponderous  woman.  He  fre 
quented  the  salons  of  the  nobility,  but  saw  no  face  so 
beautiful  as  that  of  Parashka,  the  serf-maiden  who  per 
sonated  Venus  for  Simon  Petrovitch.  The  fact  is,  he  had 
a  dim,  undeveloped  instinct  of  culture,  and  a  crude,  half- 
conscious  worship  of  beauty, — both  of  which  qualities 
found  just  enough  nourishment  in  the  life  of  the  capital 
to  tantalize  and  never  satisfy  his  nature.  He  was  excited 
by  his  new  experience,  but  hardly  happier. 

Athough  but  three-and-twenty,  he  would  never  know 
the  rich,  vital  glow  with  which  youth  rushes  to  clasp  all 
forms  of  sensation.  He  had  seen,  almost  daily,  in  his 
father's  castle,  excess  in  its  most  excessive  development. 
It  had  grown  to  be  repulsive,  and  he  knew  not  how  to 
fill  the  void  in  his  life.  With  a  single  spark  of  genius, 
and  a  little  more  culture,  he  might  have  become  a  pass 
able  author  or  artist ;  but  he  was  doomed  to  be  one  of 
those  deaf  and  dumb  natures  that  see  the  movements  of 
the  lips  of  others,  yet  have  no  conception  of  sound.  No 


32          BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

wonder  his  savage  old  father  looked  upon  him  with  con 
tempt,  for  even  his  vices  were  without  strength  or  charac 
ter. 

The  dark  winter  days  passed  by,  one  by  one,  and  the 
first  week  of  Lent  had  already  arrived  to  subdue  the 
glittering  festivities  of  the  court,  when  the  only  genuine 
adventure  of  the  season  happened  to  the  young  Prince. 
For  adventures,  in  the  conventional  sense  of  the  word,  he 
was  not  distinguished  ;  whatever  came  to  him  must  come 
by  its  own  force,  or  the  force  of  destiny. 

One  raw,  gloomy  evening,  as  dusk  was  setting  in,  he 
saw  a  female  figure  in  a  droschky,  which  was  about  turn 
ing  from  the  great  Morskoi  into  the  Gorokhovaya  (Pea) 
Street.  He  noticed,  listlessly,  that  the  lady  was  dressed 
in  black,  closely  veiled,  and  appeared  to  be  urging  the 
istivstchik  (driver)  to  make  better  speed.  The  latter  cut 
his  horse  sharply:  it  sprang  forward,  just  at  the  turning, 
and  the  droschky,  striking  a  lamp-post  was  instantly 
overturned.  The  lady,  hurled  with  great  force  upon  the 
solidly  frozen  snow,  lay  motionless,  which  the  driver  ob 
serving,  he  righted  the  sled  and  drove  off  at  full  speed, 
without  looking  behind  him.  It  was  not  inhumanity, 
but  fear  of  the  knout  that  hurried  him  away. 

Prince  Boris  looked  up  and  down  the  Morskoi,  but 
perceived  no  one  near  at  hand.  He  then  knelt  upon  the 
snow;>  lifted  the  lady's  head  to  his  knee,  and  threw  back 
her  veil.  A  face  so  lovely,  in  spite  of  its  deadly  pallor, 
he  had  never  before  seen.  Never  had  he  even  imagin 
ed  so  perfect  an  oval,  such  a  sweet,  fair  forehead,  such 


BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST.         33 

delicately  pencilled  brows,  so  fine  and  straight  a  nose, 
such  wonderful  beauty  of  mouth  and  chin.  It  was  for 
tunate  that  she  was  not  very  severely  stunned,  for  Prince 
Boris  was  not  only  ignorant  of  the  usual  modes  of  restor 
ation  in  such  cases,  but  he  totally  forgot  their  necessity, 
in  his  rapt  contemplation  of  the  lady's  face.  Presently 
she  opened  her  eyes,  and  they  dwelt,  expressionless,  but 
bewildering  in  their  darkness  and  depth,  upon  his  own, 
while  her  consciousness  of  things  slowly  returned. 

She  strove  to  rise,  and  Boris  gently  lifted  and  sup 
ported  her.  She  would  have  withdrawn  from  his  help 
ing  arm,  but  was  still  too  weak  from  the  shock.  He, 
also,  was  confused  and  (strange  to  say)  embarrassed  ; 
but  he  had  self-possession  enough  to  shout,  "  Davai!" 
(Here  !)  at  random.  The  call  was  answered  from  the  Ad 
miralty  Square ;  a  sled  dashed  up  the  Gorokhovaya  and 
halted  beside  him.  Taking  the  single  seat,  he  lifted 
her  gently  upon  his  lap  and  held  her  very  tenderly  in 
his  arms. 

"  Where  ?  "  asked  the  istvostchik. 

Boris  was  about  to  answer  "  Anywhere ! "  but  the 
lady  whispered  in  a  voice  of  silver  sweetness,  the  name 
of  a  remote  street,  near  the  Smolnoi  Church. 

As  the  Prince  wrapped  the  ends  of  his  sable  pelisse 
about  her,  he  noticed  that  her  furs  were  of  the  common 
foxskin  worn  by  the  middle  classes.  They,  with  her  heavy 
boots  and  the  threadbare  cloth  of  her  garments,  by  no 
means  justified  his  first  suspicion. — that  she  was  a  grand; 
dame,  engaged  in  some  romantic  "adventure."  She  was 


34         BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

not  more  than  nineteen  or  twenty  years  of  age,  and  he 
felt — without  knowing  what  it  was — the  atmosphere  of 
sweet,  womanly  purity  and  innocence  which  surrounded 
her.  The  shyness  of  a  lost  boyhood  surprised  him. 

By  the  time  they  had  reached  the  Litenie,  she  had 
fully  recovered  her  consciousness  and  a  portion  of  her 
strength.  She  drew  away  from  him  as  much  as  the  nar 
row  sled  would  allow. 

"  You  have  been  very  kind,  sir,  and  I  thank  you,"  she 
said  ;  "  but  I  am  now  able  to  go  home  without  your  fur 
ther  assistance." 

"  By  no  means,  lady  !  "  said  the  Prince.  "  The  streets 
are  rough,  and  here  are  no  lamps.  If  a  second  accident 
were  to  happen,  you  would  be  helpless.  Will  you  not 
allow  me  to  protect  you  ?  " 

She  looked  him  in  the  face.  In  the  dusky  light,  she 
saw  not  the  peevish,  weary  features  of  the  worldling,  but 
only  the  imploring  softness  of  his  eyes,  the  full  and  per 
fect  honesty  of  his  present  emotion.  She  made  no  fur 
ther  objection ;  perhaps  she  was  glad  that  she  could  trust 
the  elegant  stranger. 

Boris,  never  before  at  a  loss  for  words,  even  in  the 
presence  of  the  Empress,  was  astonished  to  find  how  awk 
ward  were  his  attempts  at  conversation.  She  was  pre 
sently  the  more  self-possessed  of  the  two,  and  nothing 
was  ever  so  sweet  to  his  ears  as  the  few  commonplace  re 
marks  she  uttered.  In  spite  of  the  darkness  and  the 
chilly  air,  the  sled  seemed  to  fly  like  lightning.  Before 
he  supposed  they  had  made  half  the  way,  she  gave  a  sign 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  35 

to  the  istvostchik,  and  they  drew  up  before  a  plain  house 
of  squared  logs. 

The  two  lower  windows  were  lighted,  and  the  dark  fig 
ure  of  an  old  man,  with  a  skull-cap  upon  his  head,  was 
framed  in  one  of  them.  It  vanished  as  the  sled  stopped ; 
the  door  was  thrown  open  and  the  man  came  forth  hur 
riedly,  followed  by  a  Russian  nurse  with  a  lantern. 

"  Helena,  my  child,  art  thou  come  at  last  ?  What  has 
befallen  thee  ?  " 

He  would  evidently  have  said  more,  but  the  sight  of 
Prince  Boris  caused  him  to  pause,  while  a  quick  shade  of 
suspicion  and  alarm  passed  over  his  face.  The  Prince 
stepped  forward,  instantly  relieved  of  his  unaccustomed 
timidity,  and  rapidly  described  the  accident.  The  old 
nurse  Katinka,  had  meanwhile  assisted  the  lovely  Helena 
into  the  house. 

The  old  man  turned  to  follow,  shivering  in  the  night- 
air.  Suddenly  recollecting  himself,  he  begged  the  Prince 
to  enter  and  take  some  refreshments,  but  with  the  air  and 
tone  of  a  man  who  hopes  that  his  invitation  will  not  be 
accepted.  If  such  was  really  his  hope,  he  was  disap 
pointed  ;  for  Boris  instantly  commanded  the  istvostchik  to 
wait  for  him,  and  entered  the  humble  dwelling. 

The  apartment  into  which  he  was  ushered  was  spa 
cious,  and  plainly,  yet  not  shabbily  furnished.  A  violon 
cello  and  clavichord,  with  several  portfolios  of  music,  and 
scattered  sheets  of  ruled  paper,  proclaimed  the  profession 
or  the  taste  of  the  occupant.  Having  excused  himself  a 
moment  to  look  after  his  daughter's  condition,  the  old 


36  BEAUTY   AND   THE   BEAST. 

man,  on  his  return,  found  Boris  turning  over  the  leaves 
of  a  musical  work. 

"  You  see  my  profession,"  he  said.    "  I  teach  music  ?  " 

"  Do  you  not  compose  ?  "  asked  the  Prince. 

"  That  was  once  my  ambition.  I  was  a  pupil  of  Se 
bastian  Bach.  But — circumstances — necessity — brought 
me  here.  Other  lives  changed  the  direction  of  mine.  It 
was  right ! " 

"You  mean  your  daughter's?"  the  Prince  gently  sug 
gested. 

"  Hers  and  her  mother's.  Our  story  was  well  known 
in  St.  Petersburg  twenty  years  ago,  but  I  suppose  no  one 
recollects  it  now.  My  wife  was  the  daughter  of  a  Baron 
von  Plauen,  and  loved  music  and  myself  better  than  her 
home  and  a  titled  bridegroom.  She  escaped,  we  united 
our  lives,  suffered  and  were  happy  together, — and  she 
died.  That  is  all." 

Further  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance 
of  Helena,  with  steaming  glasses  of  tea.  She  was  even 
lovelier  than  before.  Her  close-fitting  dress  revealed  the 
symmetry  of  her  form,  and  the  quiet,  unstudied  grace  of 
her  movements.  Although  her  garments  were  of  well- 
worn  material,  the  lace  which  covered  her  bosom  was  gen 
uine  point  d'Alen9on,  of  an  old  and  rare  pattern.  Boris 
felt  that  her  air  and  manner  were  thoroughly  noble  ;  he 
rose  and  saluted  her  with  the  profoundest  respect. 

In  spite  of  the  singular  delight  which  her  presence  oc 
casioned  him,  he  was  careful  not  to  prolong  his  visit  be 
yond  the  limits  of  strict  etiquette.  His  name,Boris  Alex- 


BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST.         37 

eivitch,  only  revealed  to  his  guests  the  name  of  his  father, 
without  his  rank  ;  and  when  he  stated  that  he  was  employ 
ed  in  one  of  the  Departments,  ( which  was  true  in  a  meas 
ure,  for  he  was  a  staff  officer,)  they  could  only  look  upon 
him  as  being,  at  best,  a  member  of  some  family  whose 
recent  elevation  to  the  nobility  did  not  release  them  from 
the  necessity  of  Government  service.  Of  course  he  em 
ployed  the  usual  pretext  of  wishing  to  study  music,  and 
either  by  that  or  some  other  stratagem  managed  to  leave 
matters  in  such  a  shape  that  a  second  visit  could  not  oc 
casion  surprise. 

As  the  sled  glided  homewards  over  the  crackling  snow, 
he  was  obliged  to  confess  the  existence  of  a  new  and  pow 
erful  excitement.  Was  it  the  chance  of  an  adventure, 
such  as  certain  of  his  comrades  were  continually  seeking  ? 
He  thought  not ;  no,  decidedly  not.  Was  it — could  it  be 
— love  ?  He  really  could  not  tell  j  he  had  not  the  slightset 
idea  what  love  was  like. 


VI. 

IT  was  something  at  least,  that  the  plastic  and  not  un- 
virtuous  nature  of  the  young  man  was  directed  towards  a 
definite  object.  The  elements  out  of  which  he  was  made, 
although  somewhat  diluted,  were  active  enough  to  make 
him  uncomfortable,  so  long  as  they  remained  in  a  confused 
state.  He  had  very  little  power  of  introversion,  but  he 
was  sensible  that  his  temperament  was  changing, — that  he 
grew  more  cheerful  and  contented  with  life, — that  a  chasm 


38  BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST. 

somewhere  was  filling  up, — just  in  proportion  as  his  ac 
quaintance  with  the  old  music-master  and  his  daughter  be 
came  more  familiar.  His  visits  were  made  so  brief,  were 
so  adroitly  timed  and  accounted  for  by  circumstances,  that 
by  the  close  of  Lent  he  could  feel  justified  in  making  the 
Easter  call  of  a  friend,  and  claim  its  attendant  privileges, 
without  fear  of  being  repulsed. 

That  Easter  call  was  an  era  in  his  life.  At  the  risk  of 
his  wealth  and  rank  being  suspected,  he  dressed  himself 
in  new  and  rich  garments,  and  hurried  away  towards  the 
Smolnoi.  The  old  nurse,  Katinka,  in  her  scarlet  gown, 
opened  the  door  for  him,  and  was  the  first  to  say,  "  Christ 
is  arisen  !  "  What  could  he  do  but  give  her  the  usual  kiss  ? 
Formerly  he  had  kissed  hundreds  of  serfs,  men  and  wo 
men,  on  the  sacred  anniversary,  with  a  passive  good-will. 
But  Katinka's  kiss  seemed  bitter,  and  he  secretly  rubbed 
his  mouth  after  it.  The  music-master  came  next :  grisly 
though  he  might  be,  he  was  the  St.  Peter  who  stood  at  the 
gate  of  heaven.  Then  entered  Helena,  in  white,  like  an 
angel.  He  took  her  hand,  pronounced  the  Easter  greet 
ing,  and  scarcely  waited  for  the  answer,  "  Truly  he  has 
arisen  !  "  before  his  lips  found  the  way  to  hers.  For  a 
second  they  warmly  trembled  and  glowed  together  ;  and 
in  another  second  some  new  and  sweet  and  subtle  relation 
seemed  to  be  established  between  their  natures. 

That  night  Prince  Boris  wrote  a  long  letter  to  his 
"  chere  maman"  in  piquantly  misspelt  French,  giving  her 
the  gossip  of  the  court,  and  such  family  news  as  she  usual 
ly  craved.  The  purport  of  the  letter,  however,  was  only 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  39 

disclosed  in  the  final  paragraph,  and  then  in  so  negative  a 
way  that  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  Princess  Martha  fully 
understood  it. 

"  Poingde  mariajes  pour  moix  /"  he  wrote, — but  we  will 
drop  the  original, — "I  don't  think  of  such  a  thing  yet. 
Pashkoff  dropped  a  hint,  the  other  day,  but  I  kept  my 
eyes  shut.  Perhaps  you  remember  her  ? — fat,  thick  lips, 

and  crooked  teeth.  Natalie  D said  to  me,  "  Have 

you  ever  been  in  love,  Prince  ? ' '  Have  I,  maman  ?  I  did 
not  know  what  answer  to  make.  What  is  love  ?  How  does 
one  feel,  when  one  has  it  ?  They  laugh  at  it  here,  and  of 
course  I  should  not  wish  to  do  what  is  laughable.  Give  me 
a  hint :  forewarned  is  forearmed,  you  know," — etc.,  etc. 

Perhaps  the  Princess  Martha  did  suspect  something  ; 
perhaps  some  word  in  her  son's  letter  touched  a  secret 
spot  far  back  in  her  memory,  and  renewed  a  dim,  if  not 
very  intelligible,  pain.  She  answered  his  question  at 
length,  in  the  style  of  the  popular  French  romances  of 
that  day.  She  had  much  to  say  of  dew  and  roses,  turtle 
doves  and  the  arrows  of  Cupid. 

"  Ask  thyself,"  she  wrote,  "whether  felicity  comes  with 
her  presence,  and  distraction  with  her  absence, — whether 
her  eyes  make  the  morning  brighter  for  thee,  and  her 
tears  fall  upon  thy  heart  like  molten  lava, — whether  heav 
en  would  be  black  and  dismal  without  her  company,  and 
the  flames  of  hell  turn  into  roses  under  her  feet." 

It  was  very  evident  that  the  good  Princess  Martha  had 
never  felt — nay,  did  not  comprehend — a  passion  such  as 
she  described. 


4O  BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST. 

Prince  Boris,  however,  whose  veneration  for  his  moth 
er  was  unbounded,  took  her  words  literally,  and  applied 
the  questions  to  himself.  Although  he  found  it  difficult, 
in  good  faith  and  sincerity,  to  answer  all  of  them  affirma 
tively  (he  was  puzzled,  for  instance,  to  know  the  sensation 
of  molten  lava  falling  upon  the  heart),  yet  the  general  con 
clusion  was  inevitable  :  Helena  was  necessary  to  his  hap 
piness. 

Instead  of  returning  to  Kinesma  for  the  summer,  as 
had  been  arranged,  he  determined  to  remain  in  St.  Peters 
burg,  under  the  pretence  of  devoting  himself  to  military 
studies.  This  change  of  plan  occasioned  more  disap 
pointment  to  the  Princess  Martha  than  vexation  to  Prince 
Alexis.  The  latter  only  growled  at  the  prospect  of  being 
called  upon  to  advance  a  further  supply  of  rubles,  slightly 
comforting  himself  with  the  muttered  reflection, — 

"  Perhaps  the  brat  will  make  a  man  of  himself,  after 
all." 

It  was  not  many  weeks,  in  fact,  before  the  expected 
petition  came  to  hand.  The  Princess  Martha  had  also 
foreseen  it,  and  instructed  her  son  how  to  attack  his  fath 
er's  weak  side.  The  latter  was  furiously  jealous  of  certain 
other  noblemen  of  nearly  equal  wealth,  who  were  with  him 
at  the  court  of  Peter  the  Great,  as  their  sons  now  were  at 
that  of  Elizabeth.  Boris  compared  the  splendor  of  these 
young  noblemen  with  his  own  moderate  estate,  fabled  a 
few  "  adventures  "  and  drinking-bouts,  and  announced  his 
determination  of  doing  honor  to  the  name  which  Prince 
Alexis  of  Kinesma  had  left  behind  him  in  the  capital. 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  4! 

There  was  cursing  at  the  castle  when  the  letter  arrived. 
Many  serfs  felt  the  sting  of  the  short  whip,  the  slumber- 
flag  was  hoisted  five  minutes  later  than  usual,  and  the  con 
sumption  of  Cognac  was  alarming  ;  but  no  mirror  was 
smashed,  and  when  Prince  Alexis  read  the  letter  to  his 
poor  relations,  he  even  chuckled  over  some  portions  of  it. 
Boris  had  boldly  demanded  twenty  thousand  rubles,  in  the 
desperate  hope  of  receiving  half  that  amount, — and  he 
had  calculated  correctly. 

Before  midsummer  he  was  Helena's  accepted  lover. 
Not,  however,  until  then,  when  her  father  had  given  his 
consent  to  their  marriage  in  the  autumn,  did  he  disclose 
his  true  rank.  The  old  man's  face  lighted  up  with  a  glow 
of  selfish  satisfaction  ;  but  Helena  quietly  took  her  lover's 
hand,  and  said, — 

"  Whatever  you  are,  Boris,  I  will  be  faithful  to  you." 


VII. 

LEAVING  Boris  to  discover  the  exact  form  and  sub 
stance  of  the  passion  of  love,  we  will  return  for  a  time  to 
the  castle  of  Kinesma. 

Whether  the  Princess  Martha  conjectured  what  had 
transpired  in  St.  Petersburg,  or  was  partially  informed  of 
it  by  her  son,  cannot  now  be  ascertained.  She  was  suffi 
ciently  weak,  timid,  and  nervous,  to  be  troubled  with  the 
knowledge  of  the  stratagem  in  which  she  had  assisted  in 
order  to  procure  money,  and  that  the  ever-present  con 
sciousness  thereof  would  betray  itself  to  the  sharp  eyes 


42  BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST. 

of  her  husband.  Certain  it  is,  that  the  demeanor  of  the 
latter  towards  her  and  his  household  began  to  change 
about  the  end  of  the  summer.  He  seemed  to  have  a 
haunting  suspicion,  that,  in  some  way  he  had  been,  or  was 
about  to  be,  overreached.  He  grew  peevish,  suspicious, 
and  more  violent  than  ever  in  his  excesses. 

When  Mishka,  the  dissipated  bear  already  described, 
bit  off  one  of  the  ears  of  Basil,  a  hunter  belonging  to  the 
castle,  and  Basil  drew  his  knife  and  plunged  it  into  Mish- 
ka's  heart,  Prince  Alexis  punished  the  hunter  by  cutting 
off  his  other  ear,  and  sending  him  away  to  a  distant  es 
tate.  A  serf,  detected  in  eating  a  few  of  the  pickled  cher 
ries  intended  for  the  Prince's  botvinia,  was  placed  in  a 
cask,  and  pickled  cherries  packed  around  him  up  to  the 
chin.  There  he  was  kept  until  almost  flayed  by  the  acid. 
It  was  ordered  that  these  two  delinquents  should  never 
afterwards  be  called  by  any  other  names  than  "  Crop-Ear  " 
and  "  Cherry." 

But  the  Prince's  severest  joke,  which,  strange  to  say, 
in  no  wise  lessened  his  popularity  among  the  serfs,  occur 
red  a  month  or  two  later.  One  of  his  leading  passions 
was  the  chase, — especially  the  chase  in  his  own  forests, 
with  from  one  to  two  hundred  men,  and  no  one  to  dis 
pute  his  Lordship.  On  such  occasions,  a  huge  barrel  of 
wine,  mounted  upon  a  sled,  always  accompanied  the  crowd, 
and  the  quantity  which  the  hunters  received  depended 
upon  the  satisfaction  of  Prince  Alexis  with  the  game  they 
collected. 

Winter  had  set  in  early  and  suddenly,  and  one  day,  as 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  43 

the  Prince  and  his  retainers  emerged  from  the  forest  with 
their  forenoon's  spoil,  and  found  themselves  on  the  bank 
of  the  Volga,  the  water  was  already  covered  with  a  thin 
sheet  of  ice.  Fires  were  kindled,  a  score  or  two  of  hares 
and  a  brace  of  deer  were  skinned,  and  the  flesh  placed  on 
sticks  to  broil ;  skins  of  mead  foamed  and  hissed  into  the 
wooden  bowls,  and  the  cask  of  unbroached  wine  towered 
in  the  midst.  Prince  Alexis  had  a  good  appetite ;  the 
meal  was  after  his  heart ;  and  by  the  time  he  had  eaten  a 
hare  and  half  a  flank  of  venison,  followed  by  several  bowls 
of  fiery  wine,  he  was  in  the  humor  for  sport.  He  ordered 
a  hole  cut  in  the  upper  side  of  the  barrel,  as  it  lay  ;  then, 
getting  astride  of  it,  like  a  grisly  Bacchus,  he  dipped  out 
the  liquor  with  a  ladle,  and  plied  his  thirsty  serfs  until 
they  became  as  recklessly  savage  as  he. 

They  were  scattered  over  a  slope  gently  falling  from 
the  dark,  dense  fir-forest  towards  the  Volga,  where  it  ter 
minated  in  a  rocky  palisade,  ten  to  fifteen  feet  in  height. 
The  fires  blazed  and  crackled  merrily  in  the  frosty  air ; 
the  yells  and  songs  of  the  carousers  were  echoed  back 
from  the  opposite  shore  of  the  river.  The  chill  atmos 
phere,  the  lowering  sky,  and  the  approaching  night  could 
not  touch  the  blood  of  that  wild  crowd.  Their  faces 
glowed  and  their  eyes  sparkled  ;  they  were  ready  for  any 
deviltry  which  their  lord  might  suggest. 

Some  began  to  amuse  themselves  by  flinging  the  clean- 
picked  bones  of  deer  and  hare  along  the  glassy  ice  of  the 
Volga.  Prince  Alexis,  perceiving  this  diverson,  cried  out 
in  ecstasy, — 


44         BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

"  Oh,  by  St.  Nicholas  the  Miracle- Worker,  I'll  give 
you  better  sport  than  that,  ye  knaves  !  Here's-  the  very 
place  for  a  reisak, — do  you  hear  me  children  ? —  a  reisakf 
Could  there  be  better  ice  ?  and  then  the  rocks  to  jump 
from  !  Come,  children,  come  !  Waska,  Ivan,  Daniel, 
you  dogs,  over  with  you  !  " 

Now  the  reisak  was  a  gymnastic  performance  peculiar 
to  old  Russia,  and  therefore  needs  to  be  described.  It 
could  become  popular  only  among  a  people  of  strong 
physical  qualities,  and  in  a  country  where  swift  rivers 
freeze  rapidly  from  sudden  cold.  Hence  we  are  of  the 
opinion  that  it  will  not  be  introduced  into  our  own  winter 
diversions.  A  spot  is  selected  where  the  water  is  deep 
and  the  current  tolerably  strong ;  the  ice  must  be  about 
half  an  inch  in  thickness.  The  performer  leaps  head 
foremost  from  a  rock  or  platform,  bursts  through  the  ice, 
is  carried  under  by  the  current,  comes  up  some  distance 
below,  and  bursts  through  again.  Both  skill  and  strength 
are  required  to  do  the  feat  successfully. 

Waska.  Ivan,  Daniel,  and  a  number  of  others,  sprang 
to  the  brink  of  the  rocks  and  looked  over.  The  wall 
was  not  quite  perpendicular,  some  large  fragments  having 
fallen  from  above  and  lodged  along  the  base.  It  would 
therefore  require  a  bold  leap  to  clear  the  rocks  and  strike 
the  smooth  ice.  They  hesitated, — and  no  wonder. 

Prince  Alexis  howled  with  rage  and  disappointment. 

"  The  Devil  take  you,  for  a  pack  of  whimpering 
hounds  !  "  he  cried.  "  Holy  Saints  !  they  are  afraid  to 
make  a  reisak  !  " 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  45 

Ivan  crossed  himself  and  sprang.  He  cleared  the 
rocks,  but,  instead  of  bursting  through  the  ice  with  his 
head,  fell  at  full  length  upon  his  back. 

"  O  knave  !  "  yelled  the  Prince,—"  not  to  know  where 
his  head  is  !  Thinks  it's  his  back !  Give  him  fifteen 
stripes." 

Which  was  instantly  done. 

The  second  attempt  was  partially  successful.  One  of 
the  hunters  broke  through  the  ice,  head  foremost,  going 
down,  but  he  failed  to  come  up  again ;  so  the  feat  was 
only  half  performed. 

The  Piince  became  more  furiously  excited. 

"  This  is  the  way  I'm  treated  !  "  he  cried.  "  He  forgets 
all  about  finishing  the  reisak,  and  goes  to  chasing  sterlet ! 
May  the  carps  eat  him  up  for  an  ungrateful  vagabond ! 
Here,  you  beggars  !  "  (addressing  the  poor  relations,) 
"  take  your  turn,  and  let  me  see  whether  you  are  men." 

Only  one  of  the  frightened  parasites  had  the  courage 
to  obey.  On  reaching  the  brink,  he  shut  his  eyes  in  mor 
tal  fear,  and  made  a  leap  at  random.  The  next  moment 
he  lay  on  the  edge  of  the  ice  with  one  leg  broken  against 
a  fragment  of  rock. 

This  capped  the  climax  of  the  Prince's  wrath.  He  fell 
into  a  state  bordering  on  despair,  tore  his  hair,  gnashed 
his  teeth,  and  wept  bitterly. 

"  They  will  be  the  death  of  me !  "  was  his  lament. 
"  Not  a  man  among  them  !  It  wasn't  so  in  the  old  times. 
Such  beautiful  reisaks  as  I  have  seen  !  But  the  people  are 
becoming  women, —  hares, —  chickens,  —  skunks  !  Vil- 


46         BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

lains,  will  you  force  me  to  kill  you  ?  You  have  dishon 
ored  and  disgraced  me  ;  I  am  ashamed  to  look  my  neigh 
bors  in  the  face.  Was  ever  a  man  so  treated  ?  " 

The  serfs  hung  down  their  heads,  feeling  somehow  re 
sponsible  for  their  master's  misery.  Some  of  them  wept, 
out  of  a  stupid  sympathy  with  his  tears. 

All  at  once  he  sprang  down  from  the  cask,  crying  in  a 
gay,  triumphant  tone, — 

"  I  have  it  !  Bring  me  Crop-Ear.  He's  the  fellow  for 
a  reisak, — he  can  make  three,  one  after  another." 

One  of  the  boldest  ventured  to  suggest  that  Crop-Ear 
had  been  sent  away  in  disgrace  to  another  of  the  Prince's 
estates. 

"  Bring  him  here,  I  say  ?  Take  horses,  and  don't  draw 
rein  going  or  coming.  I  will  not  stir  from  this  spot  until 
Crop-Ear  comes." 

With  these  words,  he  mounted  the  barrel,  and  recom 
menced  ladling  out  the  wine.  Huge  fires  were  made,  for 
the  night  was  falling,  and  the  cold  had  become  intense. 
Fresh  game  was  skewered  and  set  to  broil,  and  the  tragic 
interlude  of  the  revel  was  soon  forgotten. 

Towards  midnight  the  sound  of  hoofs  was  heard,  and 
the  messengers  arrived  with  Crop-  Ear.  But,  although  the 
latter  had  lost  his  ears,  he  was  not  inclined  to  split 
his  head.  The  ice,  meanwhile,  had  become  so  strong 
that  a  cannon-ball  would  have  made  no  impression  upon 
it.  Crop-Ear  simply  threw  down  a  stone  heavier  than 
himself,  and,  as  it  bounced  and  slid  along  the  solid  floor, 
said  to  Prince  Alexis, — 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  47 

"  Am  I  to  go  back,  Highness,  or  stay  here  ?  " 
"  Here,  my  son.     Thou'rt  a  man.     Come  hither  to 
me." 

Taking  the  serfs  head  in  his  hands,  he  kissed  him  on 
both  cheeks.  Then  he  rode  homeward  through  the  dark, 
iron  woods,  seated  astride  on  the  barrel,  and  steadying 
himself  with  his  arms  around  Crop-Ear's  and  Waska's 
necks. 

VIII. 

THE  health  of  the  Princess  Martha,  always  delicate,now 
began  to  fail  rapidly.  She  was  less  and  less  able  to  en 
dure  her  husband's  savage  humors,  and  lived  almost  ex 
clusively  in  her  own  apartments.  She  never  mentioned 
the  name  of  Boris  in  his  presence,  for  it  was  sure  to  throw 
him  into  a  paroxysm  of  fury.  Floating  rumors  in  regard 
to  the  young  Prince  had  reached  him  from  the  capital, 
and  nothing  would  convince  him  that  his  wife  was  not 
cognizant  of  her  son's  doings.  The  poor  Princess  clung 
to  her  boy  as  to  all  that  was  left  her  of  life,  and  tried  to 
prop  her  failing  strength  with  the  hope  of  his  speedy  re 
turn.  She  was  now  too  helpless  to  thwart  his  wishes  in 
any  way ;  but  she  dreaded,  more  than  death,  the  terrible 
something  which  would  surely  take  place  between  father 
and  son  if  her  conjectures  should  prove  to  be  true. 

One  day,  in  the  early  part  of  November,  she  received 
a  letter  from  Boris,  announcing  his  marriage.  She  had 
barely  strength  and  presence  of  mind  enough  to  conceal 


48  BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST. 

the  paper  in  her  bosom  before  sinking  in  a  swoon.  By 
some  means  or  other  the  young  Prince  had  succeeded  in 
overcoming  all  the  obstacles  to  such  a  step  :  probably  the 
favor  of  the  Empress  was  courted,  in  order  to  obtain  her 
consent.  The  money  he  had  received,  he  wrote,  would 
be  sufficient  to  maintain  them  for  a  few  months,  though 
not  in  a  style  befitting  their  rank.  He  was  proud  and 
happy ;  the  Princess  Helena  would  be  the  reigning  beau 
ty  of  the  court,  when  he  should  present  her,  but  he  de 
sired  the  sanction  of  his  parents  to  the  marriage,  before 
taking  his  place  in  society.  He  would  write  immediately 
to  his  father,  and  hoped,  that,  if  the  news  brought  a  storm, 
Mishka  might  be  on  hand  to  divert  its  force,  as  on  a  form 
er  occasion. 

Under  the  weight  of  this  imminent  secret,  the  Princess 
Martha  could  neither  eat  nor  sleep.  Her  body  wasted 
to  a  shadow  ;  at  every  noise  in  the  castle,  she  started  and 
listened  in  terror,  fearing  that  the  news  had  arrived. 

Prince  Boris,  no  doubt,  found  his  courage  fail  him 
•when  he  set  about  writing  the  promised  letter ;  for  a  fort 
night  elapsed  before  it  made  its  appearance.  Prince  Al 
exis  received  it  on  his  return  from  the  chase.  He  read  it 
hastily  through,  uttered  a  prolonged  roar  like  that  of  a 
wounded  bull,  and  rushed  into  the  castle.  The  sound  of 
breaking  furniture,  of  crashing  porcelain  and  shivered 
glass,  came  from  the  state  apartments :  the  domestics  fell 
on  their  knees  and  prayed  ;  the  Princess,  who  heard  the 
noise  and  knew  what  it  portended,  became  almost  insensi 
ble  from  fright. 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  49 

One  of  the  upper  servants  entered  a  chamber  as  the 
Prince  was  in  the  act  of  demolishing  a  splendid  malach 
ite  table,  which  had  escaped  all  his  previous  attacks.  He 
was  immediately  greeted  with  a  cry  of, — 

"  Send  the  Princess  to  me  !  " 

"  Her  Highness  is  not  able  to  leave  her  chamber," 
the  man  replied. 

How  it  happened  he  could  never  afterwards  describe 
but  he  found  himself  lying  in  a  corner  of  the  room.  When 
he  arose,  there  seemed  to  be  a  singular  cavity  in  his 
mouth  :  his  upper  front  teeth  were  wanting. 

We  will  not  narrate  what  took  place  in  the  chamber 
of  the  Princess.  The  nerves  of  the  unfortunate  woman 
had  been  so  wrought  upon  by  her  fears,  that  her  husband's 
brutal  rage,  familiar  to  her  from  long  experience,  now 
possessed  a  new  and  alarming  significance.  His  threats 
were  terrible  to  hear ;  she  fell  into  convulsions,  and  be 
fore  morning  her  tormented  life  was  at  an  end. 

There  was  now  something  else  to  think  of,  and  the 
smashing  of  porcelain  and  cracking  of  whips  came  to  an 
end.  The  Archimandrite  was  summoned,  and  prepara 
tions,  both  religious  and  secular,  were  made  for  a  funeral 
worthy  the  rank  of  the  deceased.  Thousands  flocked  to 
Kinesma ;  and  when  the  immense  procession  moved 
away  from  the  castle,  although  very  few  of  the  persons  had 
ever  known  or  cared  in  the  least,  for  the  Princess  Martha, 
all,  without  exception,  shed  profuse  tears.  Yes,  there 
was  one  exception, — one  bare,  dry  rock,  rising  alone  out 

of  the  universal  deluge, — Prince  Alexis  himself,  who  walked 
3 


50  BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST. 

behind  the  coffin,  his  eyes  fixed  and  his  features  rigid 
as  stone.  They  remarked  that  his  face  was  haggard,  and 
that  the  fiery  tinge  on  his  cheeks  and  nose  had  faded  into 
livid  purple.  The  only  sign  of  emotion  which  he  gave 
was  a  convulsive  shudder,  which  from  time  to  time  pass 
ed  over  his  whole  body. 

Three  archimandrites  (abbots)  and  one  hundred  priests 
headed  the  solemn  funeral  procession  from  the  castle  to 
the  church  on  the  opposite  hill.  There  the  mass  for  the 
dead  was  chanted,  the  responses  being  sung  by  a  choir 
of  silvery  boyish  voices.  All  the  appointments  were  of 
the  costliest  character.  Not  only  all  those  within  the 
church,  but  the  thousands  outside,  spared  not  their  tears, 
but  wept  until  the  fountains  were  exhausted.  Notice  was 
given,  at  the  close  of,  the  services,  that  "baked  meats" 
would  be  furnished  to  the  multitude,  and  that  all  beggars 
who  came  to  Kinesma  would  be  charitably  fed  for  the 
space  of  six  weeks.  Thus,  by  her  death,  the  amiable 
Princess  Martha  was  enabled  to  dispense  more  charity 
than  had  been  permitted  to  her  life. 

At  the  funeral  banquet  which  followed,  Prince  Alexis 
placed  the  Abbot  Sergius  at  his  right  hand,  and  convers 
ed  with  him  in  the  most  edifying  manner  upon  the  necessi 
ty  of  leading  a  pure  and  godly  life.  His  remarks  upon 
the  duty  of  a  Christian,  upon  brotherly  love,  humility,  and 
self-sacrifice,  brought  tears  into  the  eyes  of  the  listening 
priests.  He  expressed  his  conviction  that  the  departed 
Princess,  by  the  piety  of  her  life,  had  attained  unto  salva 
tion, — and  added,  that  his  own  life  had  now  no  fur- 


BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST.        51 

ther  value  unless  he  should  devote  it  to  religious  ex 
ercises.  f 

"  Can  you  not  give  me  a  place  in  your  monastery  ? ' 
he  asked,  turning  to  the  Abbot.     "  I  will  endow  it  with  a 
gift  of  forty  thousand  rubles,  for  the  privilege  of  occupy  t 
ing  a  monk's  cell." 

"  Pray,  do  not  decide  too  hastily,  Highness,"  the  Ab 
bot  replied.  "  You  have  yet  a  son." 

"  What ! "  yelled  Prince  Alexis,  with  flashing  eyes, 
every  trace  of  humility  and  renunciation  vanishing  like 
smoke, — "  what !  Borka  ?  The  infamous  wretch  who 
has  ruined  me,  killed  his  mother,  and  brought  disgrace 
upon  our  name  ?  Do  you  know  that  he  has  married  a 
wench  of  no  family  and  without  a  farthing, — who  would 
be  honored,  if  I  should  allow  her  to  feed  my  hogs  ?  Live 
for  him  ?  live  for  him  ?  Ah-r-r-r !  " 

This  outbreak  terminated  in  a  sound  between  a  snarl 
and  a  bellow.  The  priests  turned  pale,  but  the  Abbot 
devoutly  remarked — 

"  Encompassed  by  sorrows,  Prince,  you  should  hum 
bly  submit  to  the  will  of  the  Lord." 

"  Submit  to  Borka?"  the  Prince  scornfully  laughed. 
"  I  know  what  I'll  do.  There's  time  enough  yet  for  a 
wife  and  another  child, — ay, — a  dozen  children  !  I  can 
have  my  pick  in  the  province  ;  and  if  I  couldn't  I'd 
sooner  take  Masha,  the  goose-girl,  than  leave  Borka  the 
hope  of  stepping  into  my  shoes.  Beggars  they  shall  be, 
— beggars  !  " 

What  further  he  might  have  said  was  interrupted  by 


52         BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

the  priests  rising  to  chant  the  Blajennon  uspennie  (blessed 
be  the  dead), — after  which,  the  trisna,  a  drink  composed 
of  mead,  wine,  and  rum,  was  emptied  to  the  health  of  the 
departed  soul.  Every  one  stood  during  this  ceremony, 
except  Prince  Alexis,  who  fell  suddenly  prostrate  before 
the  consecrated  pictures,  and  sobbed  so  passionately  that 
the  tears  of  the  guests  flowed  for  the  third  time.  There 
he  lay  until  night  •  for  whenever  any  one  dared  to  touch 
him,  he  struck  out  furiously  with  fists  and  feet.  Finally 
he  fell  asleep  on  the  floor,  and  the  servants  then  bore  him 
to  his  sleeping  apartment. 

For  several  days  afterward  his  grief  continued  to  be 
so  violent  that  the  occupants  of  the  castle  were  obliged 
to  keep  out  of  his  way.  The  whip  was  never  out  of  his 
hand,  and  he  used  it  very  recklessly,  not  always  selecting 
the  right  person.  The  parasitic  poor  relations  found 
their  situation  so  uncomfortable,  that  they  decided,  one 
and  all,  to  detach  themselves  from  the  tree  upon  which 
they  fed  and  fattened,  even  at  the  risk  of  withering  on  a 
barren  soil.  Night  and  morning  the  serfs  prayed  upon 
their  knees,  with  many  tears  and  groans,  that  the  Saints 
might  send  consolation,  in  any  form,  to  their  desperate 
lord. 

The  Saints  graciously  heard  and  answered  the  prayer. 
Word  came  that  a  huge  bear  had  been  seen  in  the  forest 
stretching  towards  Juriewetz.  The  sorrowing  Prince 
pricked  up  his  ears,  threw  down  his  whip,  and  ordered  a 
chase.  Sasha,  the  broad-shouldered,  the  cunning,  the 
ready,  the  untiring  companion  of  his  master,  secretly  or- 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  53 

dered  a  cask  of  vodki  to  follow  the  crowd  of  hunters  and 
serfs.  There  was  a  steel-bright  sky,  a  low,  yellow  sun, 
and  a  brisk  easterly  wind  from  the  heights  of  the  Ural. 
As  the  crisp  snow  began  to  crunch  under  the  Prince's 
sled,  his  followers  saw  the  old  expression  come  back  to 
his  face.  With  song  and  halloo  and  blast  of  horns,  they 
swept  away  into  the  forest. 

Saint  John  the  Hunter  must  have  been  on  guard  over 
Russia  that  day.  The  great  bear  was  tracked,  and  after 
a  long  and  exciting  chase,  fell  by  the  hand  of  Prince 
Alexis  himself.  Halt  was  made  in  an  open  space  in  the 
forest,  logs  were  piled  together  and  kindled  on  the  snow, 
and  just  at  the  right  moment  (which  no  one  knew  better 
than  Sasha)the  cask  of  vodki  rolled  into  its  place.  When 
the  serfs  saw  the  Prince  mount  astride  of  it,  with  his  ladle 
in  his  hand,  they  burst  into  shouts  of  extravagant  joy. 
"  Slava  jBoguf"  (Glory  be  to  God  !)  came  fervently  from 
the  bearded  lips  of  those  hard,  rough,  obedient  children. 
They  tumbled  headlong  over  each  other,  in  their  efforts 
to  drink  first  from  the  ladle,  to  clasp  the  knees  or  kiss  the 
hands  of  the  restored  Prince.  And  the  dawn  was  glim 
mering  against  the  eastern  stars,  as  they  took  the  way  to 
the  castle,  making  the  ghostly  fir-woods  ring  with  shout 
and  choric  song. 

Nevertheless,  Prince  Alexis  was  no  longer  the  same 
man  ;  his  giant  strength  and  furious  appetite  were  broken. 
He  was  ever  ready,  as  formerly,  for  the  chase  and  the 
drinking-bout ;  but  his  jovial  mood  no  longer  grew  into  a 
crisis  which  only  utter  physical  exhaustion  or  the  stupidi- 


54  BEAUTY    AND    THE  'BEAST. 

ty  of  drunkenness  could  overcome.  Frequently,  while 
astride  the  cask,  his  shouts  of  laughter  would  suddenly 
cease,  the  ladle  would  drop  from  his  hand,  and  he  would 
sit  motionless,  staring  into  vacancy  for  five  minutes  at  a 
time.  Then  the  serfs,  too,  became  silent,  and  stood  still, 
awaiting  a  change.  The  gloomy  mood  passed  away  as 
suddenly.  He  would  start,  look  about  him,  and  say,  in  a 
melancholy  voice, — 

"  Have  I  frightened  you,  my  children  ?  It  seems  to 
me  that  I  am  getting  old.  Ah,  yes,  we  must  all  die,  one 
day.  But  we  need  not  think  about  it,  until  the  time  comes. 
The  Devil  take  me  for  putting  it  into  my  head  !  Why, 
how  now  ?  can't  you  sing,  children  ?  " 

Then  he  would  strike  up  some  ditty  which  they  all 
knew :  a  hundred  voices  joined  in  the  strain,  and  the  hills 
once  more  rang  with  revelry. 

Since  the  day  when  the  Princess  Martha  was  buried, 
the  Prince  had  not  again  spoken  of  marriage.  No  one, 
of  course,  dared  to  mention  the  name  of  Boris  in  his  pres 
ence. 

IX. 

THE  young  Prince  had,  in  reality,  become  the  happy 
husband  of  Helena.  His  love  for  her  had  grown  to  be  a 
shaping  and  organizing  influence,  without  which  his  na 
ture  would  have  fallen  into  its  former  confusion.  If  a 
thought  of  a  less  honorable  relation  had  ever  entered  his 
mind,  it  was  presently  banished  by  the  respect  which  a 
nearer  intimacy  inspired  ;  and  thus  Helena,  magnetically 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  55 

drawing  to  the  surface  only  his  best  qualities,  loved,  un 
consciously  to  herself,  her  own  work  in  him.  Ere  long, 
she  saw  that  she  might  balance  the  advantages  he  had 
conferred  upon  her  in  their  marriage  by  the  support  and 
encouragement  which  she  was  able  to  impart  to  him  ;  and 
this  knowledge,  removing  all  painful  sense  of  obligation, 
made  her  both  happy  and  secure  in  her  new  position. 

The  Princess  Martha,  under  some  presentiment  of 
her  approaching  death,  had  intrusted  one  of  the  ladies  in 
attendance  upon  her  with  the  secret  of  her  son's  marriage, 
in  addition  to  a  tender  maternal  message,  and  such  pres 
ents  of  money  and  jewelry  as  she  was  able  to  procure 
without  her  husband's  knowledge.  These  presents  reached 
Boris  very  opportunely ;  for,  although  Helena  developed 
a  wonderful  skill  in  regulating  his  expenses,  the  spring 
was  approaching,  and  even  the  limited  circle  of  society  in 
which  they  had  moved  during  the  gay  season  had  made 
heavy  demands  upon  his  purse.  He  became  restless  and 
abstracted,  until  his  wife,  who  by  this  time  clearly  com 
prehended  the  nature  of  his  trouble,  had  secretly  decided 
how  it  must  be  met. 

The  slender  hoard  of  the  old  music-master,  with  a  few 
thousand  rubles  from  Prince  Boris,  sufficed  for  his  mod 
est  maintenance.  Being  now  free  from  the  charge  of  his 
daughter,  he  determined  to  visit  Germany,  and,  if  circum 
stances  were  propitious,  to  secure  a  refuge  for  his  old  age 
in  his  favorite  Leipsic.  Summer  was  at  hand,  and  the 
court  had  already  removed  to  Oranienbaum.  In  a  few 
weeks  the  capital  would  be  deserted. 


56         BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

"  Shall  we  go  to  Germany  with  your  father?"  asked 
Boris,  as  he  sat  at  a  window  with  Helena,  enjoying  the 
long  twilight. 

"  No,  my  Boris,"  she  answered ;  "  we  will  go  to 
Kinesma." 

"  But —  Helena, — -golubchik, — mon  ange, — are  you  in 
earnest  ? " 

"  Yes,  my  Boris.  The  last  letter  from  your — our 
cousin  Nadej da  convinces  me  that  the  step  must  be  taken. 
Prince  Alexis  has  grown  much  older  since  your  mother's 
death  :  he  is  lonely  and  unhappy.  He  may  not  welcome 
us,  but  he  will  surely  suffer  us  to  come  to  him  ;  and  we 
must  then  begin  the  work  of  reconciliation.  Reflect,  my 
Boris,  that  you  have  keenly  wounded  him  in  the  tenderest 
part, — his  pride, — and  you  must  therefore  cast  away  your 
own  pride,  and  humbly  and  respectfully,  as  becomes  a 
son,  solicit  his  pardon." 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  hesitatingly,  "  you  are  right.  But  I 
know  his  violence  and  recklessness,  as  you  do  not.  For 
myself,  alone,  I  am  willing  to  meet  him ;  yet  I  fear  for 
your  sake.  Would  you  not  tremble  to  encounter  a  mad 
dened  and  brutal  mujik  ? — then  how  much  more  to  meet 
Alexis  Pavlovitch  of  Kinesma  !  " 

"  I  do  not  and  shall  not  tremble,"  she  replied.  "  It 
is  not  your  marriage  that  has  estranged  your  father,  but 
your  marriage  with  me.  Having  been,  unconsciously,  the 
cause  of  the  trouble,  I  shall  deliberately,  and  as  a  sacred 
duty,  attempt  to  remove  it.  Let  us  go  to  Kinesma,  as 
humble,  penitent  children,  and  cast  ourselves  upon  your 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  57 

father's  mercy.  At  the  worst,  he  can  but  reject  us  ;  and 
you  will  have  given  me  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  I 
have  tried,  as  your  wife,  to  annul  the  sacrifice  you  have 
made  for  my  sake." 

"  Be  it  so,  then  !  "  cried  Boris,  with  a  mingled  feeling 
of  relief  and  anxiety. 

He  was  not  unwilling  that  the  attempt  should  be 
made,  especially  since  it  was  his  wife's  desire  ;  but  he 
knew  his  father  too  well  to  anticipate  immediate  success. 
All  threatening  possibilities  suggested  themselves  to  his 
mind ;  all  forms  of  insult  and  outrage  which  he  had  seen 
perpetrated  at  Kinesma  filled  his  memory.  The  suspense 
became  at  last  worse  than  any  probable  reality.  He  wrote 
to  his  father,  announcing  a  speedy  visit  from  himself  and 
his  wife ;  and  two  days  afterwards  the  pair  left  St.  Peters 
burg  in  a  large  travelling  kibitka. 

X. 

WHEN  Prince  Alexis  received  his  son's  letter,  an  ex 
pression  of  fierce,  cruel  delight  crept  over  his  face,  and 
there  remained,  horribly  illuminating  its  haggard  features. 
The  orders  given  for  swimming  horses  in  the  Volga — one 
of  his  summer  diversions — were  immediately  counter 
manded  ;  he  paced  around  the  parapet  of  the  castle-wall 
until  near  midnight,  followed  by  Sasha  with  a  stone  jug 
of  vodki.  The  latter  had  the  useful  habit,  notwithstand 
ing  his  stupid  face,  of  picking  up  the  fragments  of  solilo 
quy  which  the  Prince  dropped,  and  answering  them  as  if 


58  BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST. 

talking  to  himself.  Thus  he  improved  upon  and  per 
fected  many  a  hint  of  cruelty,  and  was  too  discreet  ever 
to  dispute  his  master's  claim  to  the  invention. 

Sasha,  we  may  be  sure,  was  busy  with  his  devil's  work 
that  night.  The  next  morning  the  stewards  and  agents 
of  Prince  Alexis,  in  castle,  village,  and  field,  were  sum 
moned  to  his  presence. 

"  Hark  ye  !  "  said  he ;  "  Borka  and  his  trumpery  wife 
send  me  word  that  they  will  be  here  to-morrow.  See  to 
it  that  every  man,  woman,  and  child,  for  ten  versts  out  on 
the  Moskovskoi  road,  knows  of  their  coming.  Let  it  be 
known  that  whoever  uncovers  his  head  before  them  shall 
uncover  his  back  for  a  hundred  lashes.  Whomsoever 
they  greet  may  bark  like  a  dog,  meeouw  like  a  cat,  or  bray 
like  an  ass,  as  much  as  he  chooses ;  but  if  he  speaks  a 
decent  word,  his  tongue  shall  be  silenced  with  stripes. 
Whoever  shall  insult  them  has  my  pardon  in  advance. 
Oh,  let  them  come  ! — ay,  let  them  come !  Come  they 
may :  but  how  they  go  away  again  " 

The  Prince  Alexis  suddenly  stopped,  shook  his  head, 
and  walked  up  and  down  the  hall,  muttering  to  himself. 
His  eyes  were  bloodshot,  and  sparkled  with  a  strange 
light.  What  the  stewards  had  heard  was  plain  enough  ; 
but  that  something  more  terrible  than  insult  was  yet  held  in 
reserve  they  did  not  doubt.  It  was  safe,  therefore,  not 
only  to  fulfil,  but  to  exceed,  the  letter  of  their  instruc 
tions.  Before  night  the  whole  population  were  acquainted 
with  their  duties ;  and  an  unusual  mood  of  expectancy, 
not  unmixed  with  brutish  glee,  fell  upon  Kinesma. 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  59 

By  the  middle  of  the  next  forenoon,  Boris  and  his 
wife,  seated  in  the  open  kibitkci,  drawn  by  post-horses, 
reached  the  boundaries  of  the  estate,  a  few  versts  from 
the  village.  They  were  both  silent  and  slightly  pale  at 
first,  but  now  began  to  exchange  mechanical  remarks,  to 
divert  each  other's  thoughts  from  the  coming  reception. 

"  Here  are  the  fields  of  Kinesma  at  last ! "  exclaimed 
Prince  Boris.  "  We  shall  see  the  church  and  castle  from 
the  top  of  that  hill  in  the  distance.  And  there  is  Peter, 
my  playmate,  herding  the  cattle  !  Peter !  Good-day, 
brotherkin !  " 

Peter  looked,  saw  the  carriage  close  upon  him,  and, 
after  a  moment  of  hesitation,  let  his  arms  drop  stiffly  by 
his  sides,  and  began  howling  like  a  mastiff  by  moonlight. 
Helena  laughed  heartily  at  this  singular  response  to  the 
greeting  ;  but  Boris,  after  the  first  astonishment  was  over, 
looked  terrified. 

"That  was  done  by  order,"  said  he,  with  a  bitter 
smile.  "The  old  bear  stretches  his  claws  out.  Dare 
you  try  his  hug  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  fear,"  she  answered ;  her  face  was  calm. 

Every  serf  they  passed  obeyed  the  order  of  Prince 
Alexis  according  to  his  own  idea  of  disrespect.  One 
turned  his  back ;  another  made  contemptuous  grimaces 
and  noises ;  another  sang  a  vulgar  song ;  another  spat 
upon  the  ground  or  held  his  nostrils.  Nowhere  was  a 
cap  raised,  or  the  stealthy  welcome  of  a  friendly  glance 
given. 

The  Princess  Helena  met  these  insults  with  a  calm, 


60         BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

proud  indifference.  Boris  felt  them  more  keenly ;  for  the 
fields  and  hills  were  prospectively  his  property,  and  so 
also  were  the  brutish  peasants.  It  was  a  form  of  chas 
tisement  which  he  had  never  before  experienced,  and 
knew  not  how  to  resist.  The  affront  of  an  entire  com 
munity  was  an  offence  against  which  he  felt  himself  to  be 
helpless. 

As  they  approached  the  town,  the  demonstrations  of 
insolence  were  redoubled.  About  two  hundred  boys,  be 
tween  the  ages  of  ten  and  fourteen,  awaited  them  on  the 
hill  below  the  church,  forming  themselves  into  files  on 
either  side  of  the  road.  These  imps  had  been  instructed 
10  stick  out  their  tongues  in  derision,  and  howl,  as  the 
carriage  passed  between  them.  At  the  entrance  of  the 
long  main  street  of  Kinesma,  they  were  obliged  to  pass 
under  a  mock  triumphal  arch,  hung  with  dead  dogs  and 
drowned  cats  ;  and  from  this  point  the  reception  assumed 
an  outrageous  character.  Howls,  hootings,  and  hisses 
were  heard  on  all  sides  ;  bouquets  of  nettles  and  vile 
weeds  were  flung  to  them  ;  even  wreaths  of  spoiled  fish 
dropped  from  the  windows.  The  women  were  the  most 
eager  and  uproarious  in  this  carnival  of  insult :  they  beat 
their  saucepans,  threw  pails  of  dirty  water  upon  the 
horses,  pelted  the  coachman  with  rotten  cabbages,  and 
filled  the  air  with  screeching  and  foul  words. 

It  was  impossible  to  pass  through  this  ordeal  with  in 
difference.  Boris,  finding  that  his  kindly  greetings  were 
thrown  away, — that  even  his  old  acquaintances  in  the 
bazaar  howled  like  the  rest, — sat  with  head  bowed  and 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  6 1 

despair  in  his  heart.  The  beautiful  eyes  of  Helena  were 
heavy  with  tears ;  but  she  no  longer  trembled,  for  she 
knew  the  crisis  was  yet  to  come. 

As  the  kibitka  slowly  climbed  the  hill  on  its  way  to 
the  castle-gate,  Prince  Alexis,  who  had  heard  and  enjoyed 
the  noises  in  the  village  from  a  balcony  on  the  western 
tower,  made  his  appearance  on  the  head  of  the  steps 
which  led  from  the  court-yard  to  the  state  apartments. 
The  dreaded  whip  was  in  his  hand  ;  his  eyes  seemed 
about  to  start  from  their  sockets,  in  their  wild,  eager, 
hungry  gaze ;  the  veins  stood  out  like  cords  on  his  fore 
head  ;  and  his  lips,  twitching  involuntarily,  revealed  the 
glare  of  his  set  teeth.  A  frightened  hush  filled  the  castle. 
Some  of  the  domestics  were  on  their  knees ;  others  watch 
ing,  pale  and  breathless,  from  the  windows :  for  all  felt 
that  a  greater  storm  than  they  had  ever  experienced  was 
about  to  burst.  Sasha  and  the  castle-steward  had  taken 
the  wise  precaution  to  summon  a  physician  and  a  priest, 
provided  with  the  utensils  for  extreme  unction.  Both  of 
these  persons  had  been  smuggled  in  through  a  rear  en 
trance,  and  were  kept  concealed  until  their  services  should 
be  required. 

The  noise  of  wheels  was  heard  outside  the  gate,  which 
stood  invitingly  open.  Prince  Alexis  clutched  his  whip 
with  iron  fingers,  and  unconsciously  took  the  attitude  of  a 
wild  beast  about  to  spring  from  its  ambush.  Now  the 
hard  clatter  of  hoofs  and  the  rumbling  of  wheels  echoed 
from  the  archway,  and  the  kibitka  rolled  into  the  court- 
yarJ.  It  stopped  near  the  foot  of  the  grand  staircase. 


62         BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

Boris,  who  sat  upon  the  farther  side,  rose  to  alight,  in 
order  to  hand  down  his  wife ;  but  no  sooner  had  he  made 
a  movement  than  Prince  Alexis,  with  lifted  whip  and 
face  flashing  fire,  rushed  down  the  steps.  Helena  rose, 
threw  back  her  veil,  let  her  mantle  (which  Boris  had 
grasped,  in  his  anxiety  to  restrain  her  action,)  fall  behind 
her,  and  stepped  upon  the  pavement. 

Prince  Alexis  had  already  reached  the  last  step,  and 
but  a  few  feet  separated  them.  He  stopped  as  if  struck 
by  lightning, — his  body  still  retaining,  in  every  limb,  the 
impress  of  motion.  The  whip  was  in  his  uplifted  fist ; 
one  foot  was  on  the  pavement  of  the  court,  and  the  other 
upon  the  edge  of  the  last  step;  his  head  was  bent 
forward,  his  mouth  open,  and  his  eyes  fastened  upon  the 
Princess  Helena's  face. 

She,  too,  stood  motionless,  a  form  of  simple  and  per 
fect  grace,  and  met  his  gaze  with  soft,  imploring,  yet 
courageous  and  trustful  eyes.  The  women  who  watched 
the  scene  from  the  galleries  above  always  declared  that 
an  invisible  saint  stood  beside  her  in  that  moment,  and 
surrounded  her  with  a  dazzling  glory.  The  few  moments 
during  which  the  suspense  of  a  hundred  hearts  hung  upon 
those  encountering  eyes  seemed  an  eternity. 

Prince  Alexis  did  not  move,  but  he  began  to  tremble 
from  head  to  foot.  His  fingers  relaxed,  and  the  whip  fell 
ringing  upon  the  pavement.  The  wild  fire  of  his  eyes 
changed  from  wrath  into  an  ecstasy  as  intense,  and*  a 
piercing  cry  of  mingled  wonder,  admiration  and  delight 
burst  from  his  throat.  At  that  cry  Boris  rushed  forward 


BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST.         63 

and  knelt  at  his  feet.  Helena,  clasping  her  fairest  hands, 
sank  beside  her  husband,  with  upturned  face,  as  if  seek 
ing  the  old  man's  eyes,  and  perfect  the  miracle  she  had 
wrought. 

The  sight  of  that  sweet  face,  so  near  his  own,  tamed 
the  last  lurking  ferocity  of  the  beast.  His  tears  burst 
forth  in  a  shower;  he  lifted  and  embraced  the  Princess, 
kissing  her  brow,  her  cheeks,  her  chin,  and  her  hands, 
calling  her  his  darling  daughter,  his  little  white  dove,  his 
lambkin. 

"  And,  father,  my  Boris,  too ! "  said  she. 

The  pure  liquid  voice  sent  thrills  of  exquisite  delight 
through  his  whole  frame.  He  embraced  and  blessed  Bo 
ris,  and  then,  throwing  an  arm  around  each,  held  them  to 
his  breast,  and  wept  passionately  upon  their  heads.  By 
this  time  the  whole  castle  overflowed  with  weeping.  Tears 
fell  from  every  window  and  gallery ;  they  hissed  upon  the 
hot  saucepans  of  the  cooks ;  they  moistened  the  oats  in 
the  manger ;  they  took  the  starch  out  of  the  ladies' 
ruffles,  and  weakened  the  wine  in  the  goblets  of  the 
guests.  Insult  was  changed  into  tenderness  in  a  moment. 
Those  who  had  barked  or  stuck  out  their  tongues  at  Bo 
ris  rushed  up  to  kiss  his  boots ;  a  thousand  terms  of  en 
dearment  were  showered  upon  him. 

Still  clasping  his  children  to  his  breast,  Prince  Alexis 
mounted  the  steps  with  them.  At  the  top  he  turned, 
cleared  his  throat,  husky  from  sobbing,  and  shouted — 

"  A  feast !  a  feast  for  all  Kinesma  !  Let  there  be  riv 
ers  of  vodki,  wine  and  hyclromel  !  Proclaim  it  everywhere 


64  BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST. 

that  my  dear  son  Boris  and  my  dear  daughter  Helena 
have  arrived,  and  whoever  fails  to  welcome  them  to  Kines- 
ma  shall  be  punished  with  a  hundred  stripes  !  Off,  ye 
scoundrels,  ye  vagabonds,  and  spread  the  news  ! " 

It  was  not  an  hour  before  the  whole  sweep  of  the 
circling  hills  resounded  with  the  clang  of  bells,  the  blare 
of  horns,  and  the  songs  and  shouts  of  the  rejoicing  multi 
tude.  The  triumphal  arch  of  unsavory  animals  was 
whirled  into  the  Volga ;  all  signs  of  the  recent  reception 
vanished  like  magic ;  festive  fir-boughs  adorned  the  houses, 
and  the  gardens  and  window-pots  were  stripped  of  their 
choicest  flowers  to  make  wreaths  of -welcome.  The  two 
hundred  boys,  not  old  enough  to  comprehend  this  sudden 
bouleversement  of  sentiment,  did  not  immediately  desist 
from  sticking  out  their  tongues  :  whereupon  they  were 
dismissed  with  a  box  on  the  ear.  By  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  all  Kinesma  was  eating,  drinking,  and  singing ; 
and  every  song  was  sung,  and  every  glass  emptied  in 
honor  of  the  dear,  good  Prince  Boris,  and  the*  dear,  beau 
tiful  Princess  Helena.  By  night  all  Kinesma  was  drunk. 


XL 

IN  the  castle  a  superb  banquet  was  improvised.  Mu 
sic,  guests,  and  rare  dishes  were  brought  together  with 
wonderful  speed,  and  the  choicest  wines  of  the  cellar 
were  drawn  upon.  Prince  Boris,  bewildered  by  this  sud 
den  and  incredible  change  in  his  fortunes,  sat  at  his  fa 
ther's  right  hand,  while  the  Princess  filled,  but  with  much 


BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST.          65 

more  beauty  and  dignity,  the  ancient  place  of  the  Prin 
cess  Martha.  The  golden  dishes  were  set  before  her, 
and  the  famous  family  emeralds — in  accordance  with  the 
command  of  Prince  Alexis — gleamed  among  her  dark 
hair  and  flashed  around  her  milk-white  throat.  Her 
beauty  was  of  a  kind  so  rare  in  Russia  that  it  silenced 
all  question  and  bore  down  all  rivalry.  Every  one  ac 
knowledged  that  so  lovely  a  creature  had  never  before 
been  seen.  "  Faith,  the  boy  has  eyes !  "  the  old  Prince 
constantly  repeated,  as  he  turned  away  from  a  new  stare 
of  admiration,  down  the  table. 

The  guests  noticed  a  change  in  the  character  of  the 
entertainment.  The  idiot,  in  his  tow  shirt,  had  been 
crammed  to  repletion  in  the  kitchen,  and  was  now  asleep 
in  the  stable.  Razboi,  the  new  bear, — the  successor  of 
the  slaughtered  Mishka, — was  chained  up  out  of  hearing. 
The  jugglers,  tumblers,  and  Calmucks  still  occupied 
their  old  place  under  the  gallery,  but  their  performances 
were  of  a  highly  decorous  character.  At  the  least  sign 
of  a  relapse  into  certain  old  tricks,  more  grotesque 
than  refined,  the  brows  of  Prince  Alexis  would  grow 
dark,  and  a  sharp  glance  at  Sasha  was  sufficient  to  cor 
rect  the  indiscretion.  Every  one  found  this  natural 
enough  ;  for  they  were  equally  impressed  with  the  ele 
gance  and  purity  of  the  young  wife.  After  the  healths 
had  been  drunk  and  the  slumber-flag  was  raised  over  the 
castle,  Boris  led  her  into  the  splendid  apartments  of  his 
mother, — now  her  own, — and  knelt  at  her  feet. 

"  Have  I  done  my  part,  my  Boris  ? "  she  asked. 


66         BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

"  You  are  an  angel  !  "  he  cried.  "  It  was  a  miracle  ! 
My  life  was  not  worth  a  copek,  and  I  feared  for  yours.  If 
it  will  only  last  ! — if  it  will  only  last !  " 

"  It  will"  said  she.  "  You  have  taken  me  from  pov 
erty,  and  given  me  rank,  wealth,  and  a  proud  place  in  the 
world  :  let  it  be  my  work  to  keep  the  peace  which  God 
has  permitted  me  to  establish  between  you  and  your 
father ! " 

The  change  in  the  old  Prince,  in  fact,  was  more  radi 
cal  than  any  one  who  knew  his  former  ways  of  life  would 
have  considered  possible.  He  stormed  and  swore  occa 
sionally,  flourished  his  whip  to  some  purpose,  and  rode 
home  from  the  chase,  not  outside  of  a  brandy  cask,  as 
once,  but  with  too  much  of  its  contents  inside  of  -him : 
but  these  mild  excesses  were  comparative  virtues.  His 
accesses  of  blind  rage  seemed  to  be  at  an  end.  A  pow 
erful,  unaccustomed  feeling  of  content  subdued  his  strong 
nature,  and  left  its  impress  on  his  voice  and  features. 
He  joked  and  sang  with  his  "  children,"  but  not  with  the 
wild  recklessness  of  the  days  of  reisaks  and  indiscriminate 
floggings.  Both  his  exactions  and  his  favors  diminished 
in  quantity.  Week  after  week  passed  by,  and  there  was 
no  sign  of  any  return  to  his  savage  courses. 

Nothing  annoyed  him  so  much  as  a  reference  to  his 
former  way  of  life,  in  the  presence  of  the  Princess  He 
lena.  If  her  gentle,  questioning  eyes  happened  to  rest 
on  him  at  such  times,  something  very  like  a  blush  rose 
into  his  face,  and  the  babbler  was  silenced  with  a  terri 
bly  significant  look.  It  was  enough  for  her  to  say,  when 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  6/ 

he  threatened  an  act  of  cruelty  and  injustice,  "  Father,  is 
that  right  ? "  He  confusedly  retracted  his  orders,  rather 
than  bear  the  sorrow  of  her  face. 

The  promise  of  another  event  added  to  his  happi 
ness  :  Helena  would  soon  become  a  mother.  As  the  time 
drew  near  he  stationed  guards  at  the  distance  of  a  verst 
around  the  castle,  that  no  clattering  vehicles  should  pass, 
no  dogs  bark  loudly,  nor  any  other  disturbance  occur 
which  might  agitate  the  Princess.  The  choicest  sweet 
meats  and  wines,  flowers  from  Moscow  and  fruits  from 
Astrakhan,  were  procured  for  her  ;  and  it  was  a  wonder 
that  the  midwife  performed  her  duty,  for  she  had  the  fear 
of  death  before  her  eyes.  When  the  important  day  at  last 
arrived  the  slumber-flag  was  instantly  hoisted,  and  no 
mouse  dared  to  squeak  in  Kinesma  until  the  cannon  an 
nounced  the  advent  of  a  new  soul. 

That  night  Prince  Alexis  lay  down  in  the  corridor,  out 
side  of  Helena's  door  :  he  glared  fiercely  at  the  nurse  as  she 
entered  with  the  birth-posset  for  the  young  mother.  No 
one  else  was  allowed  to  pass,  that  night,  nor  the  next. 
Four  days  afterwards,  Sasha.  having  a  message  to  the 
Princess,  and  supposing  the  old  man  to  be  asleep,  at 
tempted  to  step  noiselessly  over  his  body.  In  a  twinkle 
the  Prince's  teeth  fastened  themselves  in  the  serfs  leg, 
and  held  him  with  the  tenacity  of  a  bull-dog.  Sasha 
did  not  dare  to  cry  out :  he  stood,  writhing  with  pain, 
until  the  strong  jaws  grew  weary  of  their  hold,  and  then 
crawled  away  to  dress  the  bleeding  wound.  After  that, 
no  one  tried  to  break  the  Prince's  guard. 


68         BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

The  christening  was  on  a  magnificent  scale.  Prince 
Paul  of  Kostroma  was  godfather,  and  gave  the  babe  the 
name  of  Alexis.  As  the  Prince  had  paid  his  respects  to 
Helena  just  before  the  ceremony,  it  may  be  presumed 
that  the  name  was  not  of  his  own  inspiration.  The  father 
and  mother  were  not  allowed  to  be  present,  but  they 
learned  that  the  grandfather  had  comported  himself  through 
out  with  great  dignity  and  propriety.  The  Archimandrite 
Sergius  obtained  from  the  Metropolitan  at  Moscow  a  very 
minute  fragment  of  the  true  cross,  which  was  encased  in  a 
hollow  bead  of  crystal,  and  hung  around  the  infant's  neck 
by  a  fine  gold  chain,  as  a  precious  amulet. 

Prince  Alexis  was  never  tired  of  gazing  at  his  grandson 
and  namesake. 

"  He  has  more  of  his  mother  than  of  Boris,"  he  would 
say.  "  So  much  the  better  !  Strong  dark  eyes,  like  the 
Great  Peter, — and  what  a  goodly  leg  for  a  babe  !  Ha ! 
he  makes  a  tight  little  fist  already, — fit  to  handle  a  whip, 
— or"  (seeing  the  expression  of  Helena's  face) — "or  a 
sword.  He'll  be  a  proper  Prince  of  Kinesma,  my  daugh 
ter,  and  we  owe  it  to  you." 

Helena  smiled,  and  gave  hinj  a  grateful  glance  in  re 
turn.  She  had  had  her  secret  fears  as  to  the  complete  con 
version  of  Prince  Alexis  ;  but  now  she  saw  in  this  babe  a 
new  spell  whereby  he  might  be  bound.  Slight  as  was  her 
knowledge  of  men,  she  yet  guessed  the  tyranny  of  long- 
continued  habits  ;  and  only  her  faith,  powerful  in  propor 
tion  as  it  was  ignorant,  gave  her  confidence  in  the  result 
of  the  difficult  work  she  had  undertaken. 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  69 

XII. 

ALAS  !  the  proud  predictions  of  Prince  Alexis,  and  tne 
protection  of  the  sacred  amulet,  were  alike  unavailing. 
The  babe  sickened,  wasted  away,  and  died  in  less  than 
two  months  after  its  birth.  There  was  great  and  genuine 
sorrow  among  the  serfs  of  Kinesma.  Each  had  received 
a  shining  ruble  of  silver  at  the  christening ;  and,  more 
over,  thev  were  now  beginning  to  appreciate  the  milder  re- 
gime  of  their  lord,  which  this  blo\v  might  suddenly  termin 
ate.  Sorrow,  in  such  natures  as  his,  exasperates  instead 
of  chastening :  they  knew  him  well  enough  to  recognize 
the  danger. 

At  first  the  old  man's  grief  appeared  to  be  of  a  stub 
born,  harmless  nature.  As  soon  as  the  funeral  ceremonies 
were  over  he  betook  himself  to  his  bed,  and  there  lay  for 
two  days  and  nights,  without  eating  a  morsel  of  food.  The 
poor  Princess  Helena,  almost  prostrated  by  the  blow, 
mourned  alone,  or  with  Boris,  in  her  own  apartments.  Her 
influence,  no  longer  kept  alive  by  her  constant  presence, 
as  formerly,  began  to  decline.  When  the  old  Prince 
aroused  somewhat  from  his  stupor,  it  was  not  meat  that 
he  demanded,  but  drink ;  and  he  drank  to  angry  excess. 
Day  after  day  the  habit  resumed  its  ancient  sway,  and  the 
whip  and  the  wild-beast  yell  returned  with  it.  The  serfs 
even  began  to  tremble  as  they  never  had  done,  so  long  as 
his  vices  were  simply  those  of  a  strong  man ;  for  now  a 
fiendish  element  seemed  to  be  slowly  creeping  in.  He 
became  horribly  profane  :  they  shuddered  when  he  cursed 
the  venerable  Metropolitan  of  Moscow,  declaring  that  the 


70         BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

old  sinner  had  deliberately  killed  his  grandson,  by  send 
ing  to  him,  instead  of  the  true  cross  of  the  Saviour,  a  piece 
of  the  tree  to  which  the  impenitent  thief  was  nailed. 

Boris  would  have  spared  his  wife  the  knowledge  of 
this  miserable  relapse,  in  her  present  sorrow,  but  the  in 
formation  soon  reached  her  in  other  ways.  She  saw  the 
necessity  of  .regaining,  by  a  powerful  effort,  what  she  had 
lost.  She  therefore  took  her  accustomed  place  at  the  ta 
ble,  and  resumed  her  inspection  of  household  matters. 
Prince  Alexis,  as  if  determined  to  cast  off  the  yoke  which 
her  beauty  and  gentleness  had  laid  upon  him,  avoided 
looking  at  her  face  or  speaking  to  her,  as  much  as  possi 
ble  :  when  he  did  so,  his  manner  was  cold  and  unfriendly. 
During  her  few  days  of  sad  retirement  he  had  brought 
back  the  bear  Razboi  and  the  idiot  to  his  table,  and  vod- 
ki  was  habitually  poured  out  to  him  and  his  favorite  serfs 
in  such  a  measure  that  the  nights  became  hideous  with 
drunken  tumult. 

The  Princess  Helena  felt  that  her  beauty  no  longer 
possessed  the  potency  of  its  first  surprise.  It  must  now 
be  a  contest  of  nature  with  nature,  spiritual  with  animal 
power.  T-he  struggle  would  be  perilous,  she  foresaw,  but 
she  did  not  shrink  j  she  rather  sought  the  earliest  occasion 
to  provoke  it. 

That  occasion  came.  Some  slight  disappointment 
brought  on  one  of  the  old  paroxysms  of  rage,  and  the  ox-like 
bellow  of  Prince  Alexis  rang  through  the  castle.  Boris 
was  absent,  but  Helena  delayed  not  a  moment  to  venture 
into  his  father's  presence.  She  found  him  in  a  hall  over- 


BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST.         /I 

looking  the  court-yard,  with  his  terrible  whip  in  his  hand, 
giving  orders  for  the  brutal  punishment  of  some  scores  of 
serfs.  The  sight  of  her,  coming  thus  unexpectedly  upon 
him,  did  not  seem  to  produce  the  least  effect. 

"  Father  !  "  she  cried,  in  an  earnest,  piteous  tone, 
"  what  is  it  you  do  ?  " 

"  Away,  witch  !  "  he  yelled.  "  I  am  the  master  in 
Kinesma,  not  thou  !  Away,  or-  ' 

The  fierceness  with  which  he  swung  and  cracked  the 
whip  was  more  threatening  than  any  words.  Perhaps  she 
grew  a  shade  paler,  perhaps  her  hands  were  tightly  clasped 
in  order  that  they  might  not  tremble  j  but  she  did  not 
flinch  from  the  encounter.  She  moved  a  step  nearer,  fixed 
her  gaze  upon  his  flashing  eyes,  and  said,  in  a  low,  firm 
voice — 

"  It  is  true,  father,  you  are  master  here.  It  is  easy  to 
rule  over  those  poor,  submissive  slaves.  But  you  are  not 
master  over  yourself ;  you  are  lashed  and  trampled  upon 
by  evil  passions,  and  as  much  a  slave  as  any  of  these.  Be 
not  weak,  my  father,  but  strong  ! " 

An  expression  of  bewilderment  came  into  his  face.  No 
such  words  had  ever  before  been  addressed  to  him,  and 
he  knew  not  how  to  reply  to  them.  The  Princess  Helena 
followed  up  the  effect — she  was  not  sure  that  it  was  an  ad 
vantage — by  an  appeal  to  the  simple,  childish  nature 
which  she  believed  to  exist  under  his  ferocious  exterior. 
For  a  minute  it  seemed  as  if  she  were  about  to  re-establish 
her  ascendancy  :  then  the  stubborn  resistance  of  the  beast 
returned. 


72         BEAUTY  AND  THE  BEAST. 

Among  the  portraits  in  the  hall  was  one  of  the  de 
ceased  Princess  Martha.  Pointing  to  this,  Helena  cried — 

"  See,  my  father  !  here  are  the  features  of  your  sainted 
wife  !  Think  that  she  looks  down  from  her  place  among 
the  blessed,  sees  you,  listens  to  your  words,  prays  that 
your  hard  heart  may  be  softened  !  Remember  her  last 
farewell  to  you  on  earth,  her  hope  of  meeting  you — " 

A  cry  of  savage  wrath  checked  her.  Stretching  one 
huge,  bony  hand,  as  if  to  close  her  lips,  trembling  with 
rage  and  pain,  livid  and  convulsed  in  every  feature  of  his 
face,  Prince  Alexis  reversed  the  whip  in  his  right  hand, 
and  weighed  its  thick,  heavy  butt  for  one  crashing,  fatal 
blow.  Life  and  death  were  evenly  balanced.  For  an  in 
stant  the  Princess  became  deadly  pale,  and  a  sickening 
fear  shot  through  her  heart.  She  could  not  understand 
the  effect  of  her  words  :  her  mind  was  paralyzed,  and 
what  followed  came  without  her  conscious  volition. 

Not  retreating  a  step,  not  removing  her  eyes  from  the 
terrible  picture  before  her,  she  suddenly  opened  her  lips 
and  sang.  Her  voice  of  exquisite  purity,  power,  and  sweet 
ness,  filled  the  old  hall  and  overflowed  it,  throbbing  in 
scarcely  weakened  vibrations  through  court-yard  and  cas 
tle.  The  melody  was  a  prayer — the  cry  of  a  tortured 
heart  for  pardon  and  repose  ;  and  she  sang  it  with  almost 
supernatural  expression.  Every  sound  in  the  castle  was 
hushed :  the  serfs  outside  knelt  and  uncovered  their 
heads. 

The  Princess  could  never  afterwards  describe,  or  more 
than  dimly  recall,  the  exaltation  of  that  moment.  She 


BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST.  73 

sang  in  an  inspired  trance  :  from  the  utterance  of  the  first 
note  the  horror  of  the  imminent  fate  sank  out  of  sight. 
Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  convulsed  face,  but  she  be 
held  it  not :  all  the  concentrated  forces  of  her  life  flowed 
into  the  music.  She  remembered,  however,  that  Prince 
Alexis  looked  alternately  from  her  face  to  the  portrait  of 
his  wife  ;  that  he  at  last  shuddered  and  grew  pale  ;  and 
that,  when  with  the  closing  note  her  own  strength  suddenly 
dissolved,  he  groaned  and  fell  upon  the  floor. 

She  sat  down  beside  him,  and  took  his  head  upon  her 
lap.  For  a  long  time  he  was  silent,  only  shivering  as  if  in 
fever. 

"  Father  !  "  she  finally  whispered,  "  let  me  take  you 
away  !  " 

He  sat  up  on  the  floor  and  looked  around  ;  but  as  his 
eyes  encountered  the  portrait,  he  gave  a  loud  howl  and  cov 
ered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

"  She  turns  her  head  !  "  he  cried.  "  Take  her  away. — 
she  follows  me  with  her  eyes  !  Paint  her  head  black,  and 
cover  it  up  !  " 

With  some  difficulty  he  was  borne  to  his  bed,  but  he 
would  not  rest  until  assured  that  his  orders  had  been  obey 
ed,  and  the  painting  covered  for  the  time  with  a  coat  of 
lamp-black.  A  low,  prolonged  attack  of  fever  followed, 
during  which  the  presence  of  Helena  was  indispensable  to 
his  comfort.  She  ventured  to  leave  the  room  only  while 
he  slept.  He  was  like  a  child  in  her  hands  ;  and  when 
she  commended  his  patience  or  his  good  resolutions,  his 
face  beamed  with  joy  and  gratitude.  He  determined  ( in 
4 


74  BEAUTY    AND    THE    BEAST. 

good  faith,  this  time)  to  enter  a  monastery  and  devote  the 
rest  of  his  life  to  pious  works. 

But,  even  after  his  recovery,  he  was  still  too  weak  and 
dependent  on  his  children's  attentions  to  carry  out  this  res 
olution.  He  banished  from  the  castle  all  those  of  his  poor 
relations  who  were  unable  to  drink  vodki  in  moderation  ; 
he  kept  careful  watch  over  his  serfs,  and  those  who  became 
intoxicated  (unless  they  concealed  the  fact  in  the  stables 
and  outhouses)  were  severely  punished  :  all  excess  disap 
peared,  and  a  reign  of  peace  and  gentleness  descended 
upon  Kinesma. 

In  another  year  another  Alexis  was  born,  and  lived, 
and  soon  grew  strong  enough  to  give  his  grandfather  the 
greatest  satisfaction  he  had  ever  known  in  his  life,  by  tug 
ging  at  his  gray  locks,  and  digging  the  small  ringers  into 
his  tamed  and  merry  eyes.  Many  years  after  Prince  Alex 
is  was  dead  the  serfs  used  to  relate  how  they  had  seen 
him,  in  the  bright  summer  afternoons,  asleep  in  his  arm 
chair  on  the  balcony,  with  the  rosy  babe  asleep  on  his 
bosom,  and  the  slumber-flag  waving  over  both. 

Legends  of  the  Prince's  hunts,  reisaks,  and  brutal  revels 
are  still  current  along  the  Volga  ;  but  they  are  now  linked 
to  fairer  and  more  gracious  stories  ;  and  the  free  Russian 
farmers  (no  longer  serfs)  are  never  tired  of  relating  inci 
dents  of  the  beauty,  the  courage,  the  benevolence,  and  the 
saintly  piety  of  the  Good  Lady  of  Kinesma. 


TALES  OF   HOME. 


THE  STRANGE  FRIEND. 


T  would  have  required  an  intimate  famil 
iarity  with  the  habitual  demeanor  of  the 
people  of  Londongrove  to  detect  in  them 
an  access  of  interest  (we  dare  not  say  excite 
ment),  of  whatever  kind.  Expression  with 
them  was  pitched  to  so  low  a  key  that  its 
changes  might  be  compared  to  the  slight  variations  in  the 
drabs  and  grays  in  which  they  were  clothed.  Yet  that  there 
was  a  moderate,  decorously  subdued  curiosity  present  in 
the  minds  of  many  of  them  on  one  of  the  First-days  of  the 
Ninth-month,  in  the  year  1815,  was  as  clearly  apparent 
to  a  resident  of  the  neighborhood  as  are  the  indications 
of  a  fire  or  a  riot  to  the  member  of  a  city  mob. 

The  agitations  of  the  war  which  had  so  recently  come 
to  an  end  had  hardly  touched  this  quiet  and  peaceful 
community.  They  had  stoutly  "  borne  their  testimony," 
and  faced  the  question  where  it  could  not  be  evaded ; 
and  although  the  dashing  Philadelphia  militia  had  been 


76  TALES     OF    HOME. 

stationed  at  Camp  Bloomfield,  within  four  miles  of  them, 
the  previous  year,  these  good  people  simply  ignored  the 
fact.  If  their  sons  ever  listened  to  the  trumpets  at  a  dis 
tance,  or  stole  nearer  to  have  a  peep  at  the  uniforms,  no 
report  of  what  they  had  seen  or  heard  was  likely  to  be 
made  at  home.  Peace  brought  to  them  a  relief,  like  the 
awakening  from  an  uncomfortable  dream  :  their  lives  at 
once  reverted  to  the  calm  which  they  had  breathed  for 
thirty  years  preceding  the  national  disturbance.  In  their 
ways  they  had  not  materially  changed  for  a  hundred  years. 
The  surplus  produce  of  their  farms  more  than  sufficed  for 
the  very  few  needs  which  those  farms  did  not  supply,  and 
they  seldom  touched  the  world  outside  of  their  sect  ex 
cept  in  matters  of  business.  They  were  satisfied  with 
themselves  and  with  their  lot ;  they  lived  to  a  ripe  and 
beautiful  age,  rarely  "  borrowed  trouble,"  and  were  pa 
tient  to  endure  that  which  came  in  the  fixed  course  of 
things.  If  the  spirit  of  curiosity,  the  yearning  for  an 
active,  joyous  grasp  of  life,  sometimes  pierced  through 
this  placid  temper,  and  stirred  the  blood  of  the  adoles 
cent  members,  they  were  persuaded  by  grave  voices,  of 
almost  prophetic  authority,  to  turn  their  hearts  towards 
"  the  Stillness  and  the  Quietness." 

It  was  the  pleasant  custom  of  the  community  to  ar 
rive  at  the  meeting-house  some  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes 
before  the  usual  time  of  meeting,  and  exchange  quiet  and 
kindly  greetings  before  taking  their  places  on  the  plain 
benches  inside.  As  most  of  the  families  had  lived  during 
the  week  on  the  solitude  of  their  farms,  they  liked  to  see 


THE    STRANGE    FRIEND.  77 

their  neighbors'  faces,  and  resolve,  as  it  were,  their  sense 
of  isolation  into  the  common  atmosphere,  before  yielding 
to  the  assumed  abstraction  of  their  worship.  In  this  pre 
liminary  meeting,  also,  the  sexes  were  divided,  but  rather 
from  habit  than  any  prescribed  rule.  They  were  already 
in  the  vestibule  of  the  sanctuary  ;  their  voices  were  sub 
dued  and  their  manner  touched  with  a  kind  of  reverence. 
If  the  Londongrove  Friends  gathered  together  a  few 
minutes  earlier  on  that  September  First-day  ;  if  the  younger 
members  looked  more  frequently  towards  one  of  the 
gates  leading  into  the  meeting-house  yard  than  towards 
the  other  ;  and  if  Abraham  Bradbury  was  the  centre  of  a 
larger  circle  of  neighbors  than  Simon  Pennock  (although 
both  sat  side  by  side  on  the  highest  seat  of  the  gallery), 
— the  cause  of  these  slight  deviations  from  the  ordinary 
behavior  of  the  gathering  was  generally  known.  Abra 
ham's  son  had  died  the  previous  Sixth-month,  leaving  a 
widow  incapable  of  taking  charge  of  his  farm  on  the 
Street  Road,  which  was  therefore  offered  for  rent.  It 
was  not  always  easy  to  obtain  a  satisfactory  tenant  in 
those  days,  and  Abraham  was  not  more  relieved  than  sur 
prised  on  receiving  an  application  from  an  unexpected 
quarter.  A  strange  Friend,  of  stately  appearance,  called 

v 

upon  him,  bearing  a  letter  from  William  Warner,  in  Ad 
ams  County,  together  with  a  certificate  from  a  Monthly 
Meeting  on  Long  Island.  After  inspecting  the  farm  a'nd 
making  close  inquiries  in  regard  to  the  people  of  the 
neighborhood,  he  accepted  the  terms  of  rent,  and  had 
now,  with  his  family,  been  three  or  four  days  in  possession. 


7  8  TALES    OF    HOME. 

In  this  circumstance,  it  is  true,  there  was  nothing 
strange,  and  the  interest  of  the  people  sprang  from  some 
other  particulars  which  had  transpired.  The  new-comer, 
Henry  Donnelly  by  name,  had  offered,  in  place  of  the 
usual  security,  to  pay  the  rent  annually  in  advance  ;  his 
speech  and  manner  were  not,  in  all  respects,  those  of 
Friends,  and  he  acknowledged  that  he  was  of  Irish  birth ; 
and  moreover,  some  who  had  passed  the  wagons  bearing 
his  household  goods  had  been  struck  by  the  peculiar  pat 
terns  of  the  furniture  piled  upon  them.  Abraham  Brad 
bury  had  of  course  been  present  at  the  arrival,  and  the 
Friends  upon  the  adjoining  farms  had  kindly  given  their 
assistance,  although  it  was  a  busy  time  of  the  year. 
While,  therefore,  no  one  suspected  that  the  farmer  could 
possibly  accept  a  tenant  of  doubtful  character,  a  general 
sentiment  of  curious  expectancy  went  forth  to  meet  the 
Donnelly  family. 

Even  the  venerable  Simon  Pennock,  who  lived  in  the 
opposite  part  of  the  township,  was  not  wholly  free  from 
the  prevalent  feeling.  "  Abraham,"  he  said,  approaching 
his  colleague,  "I  suppose  thee  has  satisfied  thyself  that 
the  strange  Friend  is  of  good  repute." 

Abraham  was  assuredly  satisfied  of  one  thing — that 
the  three  hundred  silver  dollars  in  his  antiquated  secre 
tary  at  home  were  good  and  lawful  coin.  We  will  not  say 
that  this  fact  disposed  him  to  charity,  but  will  only  testify 
that  he  answered  thus  : 

"  I  don't  think  we  have  any  right  to  question  the  cer 
tificate  from  Islip,  Simon ;  and  William  Warner's  word 


THE    STRANGE    FRIEND.  79 

(whom  thee  knows  by  hearsay)  is  that  of  a  good  and 
honest  man.  Henry  himself  will  stand  ready  to  satisfy 
thee,  if  it  is  needful." 

Here  he  turned  to  greet  a  tall,  fresh-faced  youth,  who 
had  quietly  joined  the  group  at  the  men's  end  of  the  meet 
ing-house.  He  was  nineteen,  blue-eyed,  and  rosy,  and  a 
little  embarrassed  by  the  grave,  scrutinizing,  yet  not  un 
friendly  eyes  fixed  upon  him. 

"  Simon,  this  is  Henry's  oldest  son,  De  Courcy,"  said 
Abraham. 

Simon  took  the  youth's  hand,  saying,  "  Where  did  thee 
get  thy  outlandish  name  ? " 

The  young  man  colored,  hesitated,  and  then  said,  in  a 
low,  firm  voice,  "  It  was  my  grandfather's  name." 

One  of  the  heavy  carriages  of  the  place  and  period, 
new  and  shiny,  in  spite  of  its  sober  colors,  rolled  into  the 
yard.  Abraham  Bradbury  and  De  Courcy  Donnelly  set 
forth,  side  by  side,  to  meet  it.  Out  of  it  descended  a  tall, 
broad-shouldered  figure — a  man  in  the  prime  of  life, 
whose  ripe,  aggressive  vitality  gave  his  rigid  Quaker  garb 
the  air  of  a  military  undress.  His  blue  eyes  seemed  to 
laugh  above  the  measured  accents  of  his  plain  speech,  and 
the  close  crop  of  his  hair  could  not  hide  its  tendency  to 
curl.  A  bearing  expressive  of  energy  and  the  habit  of 
command  was  not  unusual  in  the  sect,  strengthening,  but 
not  changing,  its  habitual  mask ;  yet  in  Henry  Donnelly 
this  bearing  suggested — one  could  scarcely  explain  why — 
a  different  experience.  Dress  and  speech,  in  him,  ex 
pressed  condescension  rather  than  fraternal  equality. 


80  TALES    OF    HOME. 

He  carefully  assisted  his  wife  to  alight,  and  De  Courcy 
led  the  horse  to  the  hitching-shed.  Susan  Donnelly  was 
a  still  blooming  woman  of  forty ;  her  dress,  of  the  plainest 
color,  was  yet  of  the  richest  texture  ;  and  her  round,  gen 
tle,  almost  tirmd  face  looked  forth  like  a  girl's  from  the 
shadow  of  her  scoop  bonnet.  While  she  was  greeting 
Abraham  Bradbury,  the  two  daughters,  Sylvia  and  Alice, 
who  had  been  standing  shyly  by  themselves  on  the  edge 
of  the  group  of  women,  came  forward.  The  latter  was  a 
model  of  the  demure  Quaker  maiden  ;  but  Abraham  ex 
perienced  as  much  surprise  as  was  possible  to  his  nature 
on  observing  Sylvia's  costume.  A  light-blue  dress,  a 
dark-blue  cloak,  a  hat  with  ribbons,  and  hair  in  curls — 
what  Friend  of  good  standing  ever  allowed  his  daughter 
thus  to  array  herself  in  the  fashion  of  the  world  ? 

Henry  read  the  question  in  Abraham's  face,  and  pre 
ferred  not  to  answer  it  at  that  moment.  Saying,  "  Thee 
must  make  me  acquainted  with  the  rest  of  our  brethren," 
he  led  the  way  back  to  the  men's  end.  When  he  had 
been  presented  to  the  older  members,  it  was  time  for 
them  to  assemble  in  meeting. 

The  people  were  again  quietly  startled  when  Henry 
Donnelly  deliberately  mounted  to  the  third  and  highest 
bench  facing  them,  and  sat  down  beside  Abraham  and 
Simon.  These  two  retained,  possibly  with  some  little  in 
ward  exertion,  the  composure  of  their  faces,  and  the 
strange  Friend  became  like  unto  them.  His  hands  were 
clasped  firmly  in  his  lap  ;  his  full,  decided  lips  were  set 
together,  and  his  eyes  gazed  into  vacancy  from  under  the 


THE    STRANGE    FRIEND.  8 1 

broad  brim.  De  Courcy  had  removed  his  hat  on  enter 
ing  the  house,  but,  meeting  his  father's  eyes,  replaced  it 
suddenly,  with  a  slight  blush. 

When  Simon  Pennock  and  Ruth  Treadwell  had  spoken 
the  thoughts  which  had  come  to  them  in  the  stillness,  the 
strange  Friend  arose.  Slowly,  with  frequent  pauses,  as 
if  waiting  for  the  guidance  of  the  Spirit,  and  with  that  in 
ward  voice  which  falls  so  naturally  into  the  measure  of  a 
chant,  he  urged  upon  his  hearers  the  necessity  of  seeking 
the  Light  and  walking  therein.  He  did  not  always  em 
ploy  the  customary  phrases,  but  neither  did  he  seem  to 
speak  the  lower  language  of  logic  and  reason  ;  while  his 
tones  were  so  full  and  mellow  that  they  gave,  with  every 
slowly  modulated  sentence,  a  fresh  satisfaction  to  the  ear. 
Even  his  broad  a's  and  the  strong  roll  of  his  r's,  which 
verified  the  rumor  of  his  foreign  birth,  did  not  detract 
from  the  authority  of  his  words.  The  doubts  which  had 
preceded  him  somehow  melted  away  in  his  presence,  and 
he  came  forth,  after  the  meeting  had  been  dissolved  by 
the  shaking  of  hands,  an  accepted  tenant  of  the  high 
seat. 

That  evening,  the  family  were  alone  in  their  new  home. 
The  plain  rush-bottomed  chairs  and  sober  carpet,  in  con 
trast  with  the  dark,  solid  mahogany  table,  and  the  silver 
branched  candle-stick  which  stood  upon  it,  hinted  of 
former  wealth  and  present  loss;  and  something  of  the 
same  contrast  was  reflected  in  the  habits  of  the  inmates. 
While  the  father,  seated  in  a  stately  arm-chair,  read  aloud 
to  his  wife  and  children,  Sylvia's  eyes  rested  on  a  guitar- 
4* 


82  TALES    AROUND    HOME. 

case  in  the  corner,  and  her  fingers  absently  adjusted 
themselves  to  the  imaginary  frets.  De  Courcy  twisted 
his  neck  as  if  the  straight  collar  of  his  coat  were  a  bad 
fit,  and  Henry,  the  youngest  boy,  nodded  drowsily  from 
time  to  time. 

"  There,  my  lads  and  lasses  ! "  said  Henry  Donnelly, 
as  he  closed  the  book,  "  now  we're  plain  farmers  at  last, 
— and  the  plainer  the  better,  since  it  must  be.  There's 
only  one  thing  wanting — " 

He  paused  ;  and  Sylvia,  looking  up  with  a  bright, 
arch  determination,  answered  :  "  It's  too  late  now,  father, 
— they  have  seen  me  as  one  of  the  world's  people,  as  I 
meant  they  should.  When  it  is  once  settled  as  some 
thing  not  to  be  helped,  it  will  give  us  no  trouble." 

"Faith,  Sylvia!"  exclaimed  De  Courcy,  "I  almost 
wish  I  had  kept  you  company." 

"  Don't  be  impatient,  my  boy/'  said  the  mother,  gently. 
"  Think  of  the  vexations  we  have  had,  and  what  a  rest 
this  life  will  be  !  " 

"Think,  also,"  the  father  added,  "that  I  have  the 
heaviest  work  to  do,  and  that  thou'lt  reap  the  most  of 
what  may  come  of  it.  Don't  carry  the  old  life  to  a  land 
where  it's  out  of  place.  We  must  be  what  we  seem  to  be, 
every  one  of  us  !  " 

"  So  we  will ! "  said  Sylvia,  rising  from  her  seat, — "  I, 
as  well  as  the  rest.  It  was  what  I  said  in  the  beginning, 
you — no,  thee  knows,  father.  Somebody  must  be  inter 
preter  when  the  time  comes  ;  somebody  must  remember 
while  the  rest  of  you  are  forgetting.  Oh,  I  shall  be  talked 


THE    STRANGE    FRIEND.  83 

about,  and  set  upon,  and  called  hard  names ;  it  won't  be 
so  easy.  Stay  where  you  are,  De  Courcy  ;  that  coat  will 
fit  sooner  than  you  think." 

Her  brother  lifted  his  shoulders  and  made  a  grimace. 
"  I've  an  unlucky  name,  it  seems,"  said  he.  "  The  old 
fellow — I  mean  Friend  Simon — pronounced  it  outlandish. 
Couldn't  I  change  it  to  Ezra  or  Adonijah  ?" 

"  Boy,  boy—" 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  father.  It  will  soon  be  as  Syl 
via  says  ;  thee's  right,  and  mother  is  right.  I'll  let  Syl 
via  keep  my  memory,  and  start  fresh  from  here.  We 
must  into  the  field  to-morrow,  Hal  and  I.  There's  no 
need  of  a  collar  at  the  plough-tail." 

They  went  to  rest,  and  on  the  morrow  not  only  the 
boys,  but  their  father  were  in  the  field.  Shrewd,  quick, 
and  strong,  they  made  available  what  they  knew  of  farm 
ing  operations,  and  disguised  much  of  their  ignorance, 
while  they  learned.  Henry  Donnelly's  first  public  ap 
pearance  had  made  a  strong  public  impression  in 
his  favor,  which  the  voice  of  the  older  Friends  soon 
stamped  as  a  settled  opinion.  His  sons  did  their  share, 
by  the  amiable,  yielding  temper  they  exhibited,  in  ac 
commodating  themselves  to  the  manners  and  ways  of 
the  people.  The  graces  which  came  from  a  better  educa 
tion,  and  possibly,  more  refined  associations,  gave  them 
an  attraction,  which  was  none  the  less  felt  because  it  was 
not  understood,  to  the  simple-minded  young  men  who 
worked  with  the  hired  hands  in  their  fathers'  fields.  If 
the  Donnelly  family  had  not  been  accustomed,  in  former 


84  TALES    OF    HOME. 

days,  to  sit  at  the  same  table  with  laborers  in  shirt-sleeves, 
and  be  addressed  by  the  latter  in  fraternal  phrase,  no 
little  awkwardnesses  or  hesitations  betrayed  the  fact. 
They  were  anxious  to  make  their  naturalization  complete, 
and  it  soon  became  so. 

* 

The  "  strange  Friend "  was  now  known  in  London- 
grove  by  the  familiar  name  of  "  Henry."  He  was  a  con 
stant  attendant  at  meeting,  not  only  on  First-days,  but 
also  on  Fourth -days,  and  whenever  he  spoke  his  words 
were  listened  to  with  the  reverence  due  to  one  who  was 
truly  led  towards  the  Light.  This  respect  kept  at  bay 
the  curiosity  that  might  still  have  lingered  in  some  minds 
concerning  his  antecedent  life.  It  was  known  that  he 
answered  Simon  Pennock,  who  had  ventured  to  approach 
him  with  a  direct  question,  in  these  words : 

"Thee  knows,  Friend  Simon,  that  sometimes  a  seal  is 
put  upon  our  mouths  for  a  wise  purpose.  I  have  learned 
not  to  value  the  outer  life  except  in  so  far  as  it  is  made 
the  manifestation  of  the  inner  life,  and  I  only  date  my 
own  from  the  time  when  I  was  brought  to  a  knowledge 
of  the  truth.  It  is  not  pleasant  to  me  to  look  upon 
what  went  before ;  but  a  season  may  come  when  it  shall 
be  lawful  for  me  to  declare  all  things — nay,  when  it  shall 
be  put  upon  me  as  a  duty.  Thee  must  suffer  me  to  wait 
the  call." 

After  this  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  said.  The 
family  was  on  terms  of  quiet  intimacy  with  the  neighbors ; 
and  even  Sylvia,  in  spite  of  her  defiant  eyes  and  worldly 
ways,  became  popular  among  the  young  men  and  maid- 


THE    STRANGE    FRIEND.  85 

ens.  She  touched  her  beloved  guitar  with  a  skill  which 
seemed  marvellous  to  the  latter ;  and  when  it  was  known 
that  her  refusal  to  enter  the  sect  arose  from  her  fondness 
for  the  prohibited  instrument,  she  found  many  apologists 
among  them.  She  was  not  set  upon,  and  called  hard 
names,  as  she  had  anticipated.  It  is  true  that  her  father, 
when  appealed  to  by  the  elders,  shook  his  head  and  said, 
"  It  is  a  cross  to  us !  " — but  he  had  been  known  to  re 
main  in  the  room  while  she  sang  "  Full  high  in  Kilbride," 
and  the  keen  light  which  arose  in  his  eyes  was  neither 
that  of  sorrow  nor  anger. 

At  the  end  of  their  first  year  of  residence  the  farm 
presented  evidences  of  much  more  orderly  and  intelligent 
management  than  at  first,  although  the  adjoining  neigh 
bors  were  of  the  opinion  that  the  Donnellys  had  hardly 
made  their  living  out  of  it.  Friend  Henry,  nevertheless, 
was  ready  with  the  advance  rent,  and  his  bills  were  prompt 
ly  paid.  He  was  close  at  a  bargain,  which  was  considered 
rather  a  merit  than  otherwise, — and  almost  painfully  ex 
act  in  observing  the  strict  letter  of  it,  when  made. 

As  time  passed  by,  and  the  family  became  a  perma 
nent  part  and  parcel  of  the  remote  community,  wearing 
its  peaceful  color  and  breathing  its  untroubled  atmos 
phere,  nothing  occurred  to  disturb  the  esteem  and  respect 
which  its  members  enjoyed.  From  time  to  time  the  post 
master  at  the  corner  delivered  to  Henry  Donnelly  a  letter 
from  New  York,  always  addressed  in  the  same  hand.  The 
first  which  arrived  had  an  "  Esq."  added  to  the  name, 
but  this  "  compliment "  (as  the  Friends  termed  it)  soon 


86  TALES    OF    HOME. 

ceased.  Perhaps  the  official  may  have  vaguely  wondered 
whether  there  was  any  connection  between  the  occasional 
absence  of  Friend  Henry — not  at  Yearly-Meeting  time — 
and  these  letters.  If  he  had  been  a  visitor  at  the  farm 
house  he  might  have  noticed  variations  in  the  moods  of  its 
inmates,  which  must  have  arisen  from  some  other  cause 
than  the  price  of  stock  or  the  condition  of  the  crops. 
Outside  of  the  family  circle,  however,  they  were  serenely 
reticent. 

In  five  or  six  years,  when  De  Courcy  had  grown  to  be 
a  hale,  handsome  man  of  twenty-four,  and  as  capable  of 
conducting  a  farm  as  any  to  the  township  born,  certain 
aberrations  from  the  strict  line  of  discipline  began  to  be 
rumored.  He  rode  a  gallant  horse,  dressed  a  little  more 
elegantly  than  his  membership  prescribed,  and  his  unusu 
ally  high,  straight  collar  took  a  knack  of  falling  over. 
Moreover,  he  was  frequently  seen  to  ride  up  the  Street 
Road,  in  the  direction  of  Fagg's  Manor,  towards  those 
valleys  where  the  brick  Presbyterian  church  displaces  the 
whitewashed  Quaker  meeting-house.  Had  Henry  Don 
nelly  not  occupied  so  high  a  seat,  and  exercised  such  an 
acknowledged  authority  in  the  sect,  he  might  sooner  have 
received  counsel,  or  proffers  of  sympathy,  as  the  case 
might  be  ;  but  he  heard  nothing  until  the  rumors  of  De 
Courcy's  excursions  took  a  more  definite  form. 

But  one  day,  Abraham  Bradbury,  after  discussing 
some  Monthly-Meeting  matters,  suddenly  asked  :  "  Is  this 
true  that  I  hear,  Henry, — that  thy  son  De  Courcy  keeps 
company  with  one  of  the  Alison  girls  ? " 


THE    STRANGE    FRIEND.  8/ 

"  Who  says  that  ?  "  Henry  asked,  in  a  sharp  voice. 

"  Why,  it's  the  common  talk  !  Surely,  thee's  heard 
of  it  before  ?  " 

"  No !  " 

Henry  set  his  lips  together  in  a  manner  which  Abra 
ham  understood.  Considering  that  he  had  fully  performed 
his  duty,  he  said  no  more. 

That  evening,  Sylvia,  who  had  been  gently  thrumming 
to  herself  at  the  window,  began  singing  u  Bonnie  Peggie 
Alison."  Her  father  looked  at  De  Courcy,  who  caught 
his  glance,  then  lowered  his  eyes,  and  turned  to  leave  the 
room. 

"  Stop,  De  Courcy,"  said  the  former ;  "  I've  heard 
a  piece  of  news  about  thee  to-day,  which  I  want  thee  to 
make  clear." 

"  Shall  I  go,  father  ? "  asked  Sylvia. 

"No;  thee  may  stay  to  give  De  Courcy  his  memory. 
I  think  he  is  beginning  to  need  it.  I've  learned  which 
way  he  rides  on  Seventh-day  evenings." 

"  Father,  I  am  old  enough  to  choose  my  way,"  said 
De  Courcy. 

"  But  no  such  ways  now}boy  !  Has  thee  clean  forgot 
ten  ?  This  was  among  the  things  upon  which  we  agreed, 
and  you  all  promised  to  keep  watch  and  guard  over  your 
selves.  I  had  my  misgivings  then,  but  for  five  years  I've 
trusted  you,  and  now,  when  the  time  of  probation  is  so 
nearly  over — " 

He  hesitated,  and  De  Courcy,  plucking  up  courage, 
spoke  again.  With  a  strong  effort  the  young  man  threw 


88'  TALES    OF    HOME. 

off  the  yoke  of  a  self-taught  restraint,  and  asserted  his 
true  nature.  "  Has  O'Neil  written  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  yet." 

"Then,  father,"  he  continued,  "  I  prefer  the  certainty 
of  my  present  life  to  the  uncertainty  of  the  old.  I  will 
not  dissolve  my  connection  with  the  Friends  by  a  shock 
which  might  give  thee  trouble  ;  but  I  will  slowly  work 
away  from  them.  Notice  will  be  taken  of  my  ways  ;  there 
will  be  family  visitations,  warnings,  and  the  usual  routine 
of  discipline,  so  that  when  I  marry  Margaret  Alison,  no 
body  will  be  surprised  at  my  being  read  out  of  meeting. 
I  shall  soon  be  twenty-five,  father,  and  this  thing  has  gone 
on  about  as  long  as  I  can  bear  it.  I  must  decide  to  be 
either  a  man  or  a  milksop." 

The  color  rose  to  Henry  Donnelly's  cheeks,  and  his 
eyes  flashed,  but  he  showed  no  signs  of  anger.  He  moved 
to  De  Courcy's  side  and  laid  his  hand  upon  his  shoul 
der. 

"  Patience,  my  boy  !  "  he  said.  "  It's  the  old  blood, 
and  I  might  have  known  it  would  proclaim  itself.  Sup 
pose  I  were  to  shut  my  eyes  to  thy  ridings,  and  thy 
merry-makings,  and  thy  worldly  company.  So  far  I  might 
go  ;  but  the  girl  is  no  mate  for  thee.  If  O'Neil  is  alive, 
we  are  sure  to  hear  from  him  soon ;  and  in  three  years, 
at  the  utmost,  if  the  Lord  favors  us,  the  end  will  come. 
How  far  has  it  gone  with  thy  courting  ?  Surely,  surely, 
not  too  far  to  withdraw,  at  least  under  the  plea  of  my  pro 
hibition  ?  " 

De  Courcy  blushed,  but  firmly  met  his  father's  eyes. 


THE    STRANGE    FRIEND.  89 

"  I  have  spoken  to  her,"  he  replied,  "  and  it  is  not  the 
custom  of  our  family  to  break  plighted  faith." 

"  Thou  art  our  cross,  not  Sylvia.  Go  thy  ways  now. 
I  will  endeavor  to  seek  for  guidance." 

"  Sylvia,"  said  the  father,  when  De  Courcy  had  left 
the  room,  "  what  is  to  be  the  end  of  this  ?  " 

"  Unless  we  hear  from  O'Neil,  father,  I  am  afraid  it 
cannot  be  prevented.  De  Courcy  has  been  changing  for 
a  year  past ;  I  am  only  surprised  that  you  did  not  sooner 
notice  it.  What  I  said  in  jest  has  become  serious  truth ; 
he  has  already  half  forgotten.  We  might  have  expected, 
in  the  beginning,  that  one  of  two  things  would  happen  : 
either  he  would  become  a  plodding  Quaker  farmer  or  take 
to  his  present  courses.  Which  would  be  worse,  when  this 
life  is  over, — if  that  time  ever  comes  ?  " 

Sylvia  sighed,  and  there  was  a  weariness  in  her  voice 
which  did  not  escape  her  father's  ear.  He  walked  up  and 
down  the  room  with  a  troubled  air.  She  sat  down,  took 
the  guitar  upon  her  lap,  and  began  to  sing  the  verse,  com 
mencing,  "  Erin,  my  country,  though  sad  and  forsaken," 
when — perhaps  opportunely — Susan  Donnelly  entered  the 
room. 

"  Eh,  lass  !  "  said  Henry,  slipping  his  arm  around  his 
wife's  waist,  "  art  thou  tired  yet  ?  Have  I  been  trying 
thy  patience,  as  I  have  that  of  the  children  ?  Have  there 
been  longings  kept  from  me,  little  rebellions  crushed,  bat 
tles  fought  that  I  supposed  were  over  ?  " 

"  Not  by  me,  Henry,"  was  her  cheerful  answer.  "  I 
have  never  have  been  happier  than  in  these  quiet  ways 


9O  TALES    OF    HOME. 

with  thee.  I've  been  thinking,  what  if  something  has  hap 
pened,  and  the  letters  cease  to  come  ?  And  it  has  seem 
ed  to  me — now  that  the  boys  are  as  good  farmers  as  any, 
and  Alice  is  such  a  tidy  housekeeper — that  we  could  man 
age  very  well  without  help.  Only  for  thy  sake,  Henry  : 
I  fear  it  would  be  a  terrible  disappointment  to  thee.  Or 
is  thee  as  accustomed  to  the  high  seat  as  I  to  my  place  on 
the  women's  side  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  he  answered  emphatically.  "  The  talk  with 
De  Courcy  has  set  my  quiet  Quaker  blood  in  motion.  The 
boy  is  more  than  half  right ;  I  am  sure  Sylvia  thinks  so 
too.  What  could  I  expect  ?  He  has  no  birthright,  and 
didn't  begin  his  task,  as  I  did,  after  the  bravery  of  youth 
was  over.  It  took  six  generations  to  establish  the  seren 
ity  and  content  of  our  brethren  here,  and  the  dress  we 
wear  don't  give  us  the  nature.  De  Courcy  is  tired  of  the 
masquerade,  and  Sylvia  is  tired  of  seeing  it.  Thou,  my 
little  Susan,  who  wert  so  timid  at  first,  puttest  us  all  to 
shame  now  !  " 

"  I  think  I  was  meant  for  it, — Alice,  and  Henry,  and 
I,"  said  she. 

No  outward  change  in  Henry  Donnelly's  demeanor  be 
trayed  this  or  any  other  disturbance  at  home.  There 
were  repeated  consultations  between  the  father  and  son, 
but  they  led  to  no  satisfactory  conclusion.  De  Courcy 
was  sincerely  attached  to  the  pretty  Presbyterian  maiden, 
and  found  livelier  society  in  her  brothers  and  cousins  than 
among  the  grave,  awkward  Quaker  youths  of  London- 
grove.  With  the  occasional  freedom  from  restraint  there 


THE    STRANGE    FRIEND.  9! 

awoke  in  him  a  desire  for  independence —  a  thirst  for  the 
suppressed  license  of  youth.  His  new  acquaintances 
were  accustomed  to  a  rigid  domestic  regime,  but  of  a  dif 
ferent  character,  and  they  met  on  a  common  ground  of  re 
bellion.  Their  aberrations,  it  is  true,  were  not  of  a  very 
formidable  character,  and  need  not  have  been  guarded  but 
for  the  severe  conventionalities  of  both  sects.  An  occa 
sional  fox-chase,  horse-race,  or  a  "  stag  party  "  at  some 
outlying  tavern,  formed  the  sum  of  their  dissipation  ;  they 
sang,  danced  reels,  and  sometimes  ran  into  little  excesses 
through  the  stimulating  sense  of  the  trespass  they  were 
committing. 

By  and  by  reports  of  certain  of  these  performances 
were  brought  to  the  notice  of  the  Londongrove  Friends, 
and,  with  the  consent  of  Henry  Donnelly  himself,  De  Cour- 
cy  received  a  visit  of  warning  and  remonstrance.  He  had 
foreseen  the  probability  of  such  a  visit  and  was  prepared. 
He  denied  none  of  the  charges  brought  against  him,  and 
accepted  the  grave  counsel  offered,  simply  stating  that 
his  nature  was  not  yet  purified  and  chastened  ;  he  was 
aware  he  was  not  walking  in  the  Li'ght ;  he  believed  it  to 
be  a  troubled  season  through  which  he  must  needs  pass. 
His  frankness,  as  he  was  shrewd  enough  to  guess,  was  a 
scource  of  perplexity  to  the  elders  ;  it  prevented  them 
from  excommunicating  him  without  further  probation, 
while  it  left  him  free  to  indulge  in  further  recreations. 

Some  months  passed  away,  and  the  absence  from 
which  Henry  Donnelly  always  returned  with  a  good  sup 
ply  of  ready  money  did  not  take  place.  The  knowledge  of 


92  TALES    OF    HOME. 

farming  which  his  sons  had  acquired  now  came  into  play. 
It  was  necessary  to  exercise  both  skill  and  thrift  in  order 
to  keep  up  the  liberal  footing  upon  which  the  family  had 
lived ;  for  each  member  of  it  was  too  proud  to  allow  the 
community  to  suspect  the  change  in  their  circumstances. 
De  Courcy,  retained  more  than  ever  at  home,  and  bound 
to  steady  labor,  was  man  enough  to  subdue  his  impatient 
spirit  for  the  time  ;  but  he  secretly  determined  that  with 
the  first  change  for  the  better  he  would  follow  the  fate  he 
had  chosen  for  himself. 

Late  in  the  fall  came  the  opportunity  for  which  he  had 
longed.  One  evening  he  brought  home  a  letter,  in  the 
well-known  handwriting.  His  father  opened  and  read  it 
in  silence. 

"  Well,  father  ?  "  he  said. 

"  A  former  letter  was  lost,  it  seems.  This  should  have 
come  in  the  spring  ;  it  is  only  the  missing  sum." 

"  Does  O'Neil  fix  any  time  ?  " 

"  No  •  but  he  hopes  to  make  a  better  report  next  year." 

"  Then,  father,"  said  De  Courcy,  "  it  is  useless  for  me 
to  wait  longer  ;  I  am  satisfied  as  it  is.  I  should  not  have 
given  up  Margaret  in  any  case  ;  but  now,  since  thee  can 
live  with  Henry's  help,  I  shall  claim  her." 

"  Must  it  be,  De  Courcy  ?  " 

"It  must." 

But  it  was  not  to  be.  A  day  or  two  afterwards  the 
young  man,  on  his  mettled  horse,  set  off  up  the  Street 
Road,  feeling  at  last  that  the  fortune  and  the  freedom  of 
his  life  were  approaching.  He  had  become,  in  habits  and 


THE    STRANGE    FRIEND.  93 

in  feelings,  one  of  the  people,  and  the  relinquishment  of 
the  hope  in  which  his  father  still  indulged  brought  him  a 
firmer  courage,  a  more  settled  content.  His  sweetheart's 
family  was  in  good  circumstances ;  but,  had  she  been  poor, 
he  felt  confident  of  his  power  to  make  and  secure  for  her 
a  farmer's  home.  To  the  past — whatever  it  might  have 
been — he  said  farewell,  and  went  -carolling  some  cheerful 
ditty,  to  look  upon  the  face  of  his  future. 

That  night  a  country  wagon  slowly  drove  up  to  Henry 
Donnelly's  door.  The  three  men  who  accompanied  it 
hesitated  before  they  knocked,  and,  when  the  door  was 
opened,  looked  at  each  other  with  pale,  sad  faces,  before 
either  spoke.  No  cries  followed  the  few  words  that  were 
said,  but  silently,  swiftly,  a  room  was  made  ready,  while 
the  men  lifted  from  the  straw  and  carried  up  stairs  an  un 
conscious  figure,  the  arms  of  which  hung  down  with  a  hor 
rible  significance  as  they  moved.  He  was  not  dead,  for 
the  heart  beat  feebly  and  slowly ;  but  all  efforts  to  restore 
his  consciousness  were  in  vain.  There  was  concussion 
of  the  brain  the  physician  said.  He  had  been  thrown 
from  his  horse,  probably  alighting  upon  his  head,  as  there 
were  neither  fractures  nor  external  wounds.  All  that 
night  and  next  day  the  tenderest,  the  most  unwearied  care 
was  exerted  to  call  back  the  flickering  gleam  of  life.  The 
shock  had  been  too  great ;  his  deadly  torpor  deepened 
into  death. 

In  their  time  of  trial  and  sorrow  the  family  received 
the  fullest  sympathy,  the  kindliest  help,  from  the  whole 
neighborhood.  They  had  never  before  so  fully  apprecia- 


94  TALES    OF    HOME. 

ted  the  fraternal,  character  of  the  society  whereof  they 
were  members.  The  plain,  plodding  people  living  on  the 
adjoining  farms  became  virtually  their  relatives  and  fellow- 
mourners.  All  the  external  offices  demanded  by  the  sad 
occasion  were  performed  for  them,  and  other  eyes  than 
their  own  shed  tears  of  honest  grief  over  De  Courcy's  cof 
fin.  All  came  to  the  funeral,  and  even  Simon  Pennock, 
in  the  plain  yet  touching  words  which  he  spoke  beside  the 
grave,  forgot  the  young  man's  wandering  from  the  Light, 
in  the  recollection  of  his  frank,  generous,  truthful  nature. 

If  the  Donnellys  had  sometimes  found  the  practical 
equality  of  life  in  Londongrove  a  little  repellent  they 
were  now  gratefully  moved  by  the  delicate  and  refined 
ways  in  which  the  sympathy  of  the  people  sought  to  ex 
press  itself.  The  better  qualities  of  human  nature  always 
develop  a  temporary  good-breeding.  Wherever  any  of  the 
family  went,  they  saw  the  reflection  of  their  own  sorrow  ; 
and  a  new  spirit  informed  to  their  eyes  the  quiet  pastoral 
landscapes. 

In  their  life  at  home  there  was  little  change.  Abra 
ham  Bradbury  had  insisted  on  sending  his  favorite  grand 
son,  Joel,  a  youth  of  twenty-two,  to  take  De  Courcy's 
place  for  a  few  months.  He  was  a  shy,  quiet  creature,  with 
large  brown  eyes  like  a  fawn's,  and  young  Henry  Donnelly 
and  he  became  friends  at  once.  It  was  believed  that 
he  would  inherit  the  farm  at  his  grandfather's  death  ;  but 
he  was  as  subservient  to  Friend  Donnelly's  wishes  in  re 
gard  to  the  farming  operations  as  if  the  latter  held  the  fee 
of  the  property.  His  coming  did  not  fill  the  terrible  gap 


THE    STRANGE    FRIEND.  95 

which  De  Courcy's  death  had  made,  but  seemed  to  make 
it  less  constantly  and  painfully  evident. 

Susan  Donnelly  soon  remarked  a  change,  which  she 
could  neither  clearly  define  nor  explain  to  herself,  both  in 
her  husband  and  in  their  daughter  Sylvia.  The  former, 
although  in  public  he  preserved  the  same  grave,  stately 
face,— its  lines,  perhaps,  a  little  more  deeply  marked, — 
seemed  to  be  devoured  by  an  internal  unrest.  His  dreams 
were  of  the  old  times  :  words  and  names  long  unused 
came  from  his  lips  as  he  slept  by  her  side.  Although  he 
bore  his  grief  with  more  strength  than  she  had  hoped,  he 
grew  nervous  and  excitable, — sometimes  unreasonably  pet 
ulant,  sometimes  gay  to  a  pitch  which  impressed  her  with 
pain.  When  the  spring  came  around,  and  the  mysterious 
correspondence  again  failed,  as  in  the  previous  year,  his 
uneasiness  increased.  He  took  his  place  on  the  high  seat 
on  First-dafys,  as  usual,  but  spoke  no  more. 

Sylvia,  on  the  other  hand,  seemed  to  have  wholly  lost 
her  proud,  impatient  character.  She  went  to  meeting  much 
more  frequently  than  formerly,  busied  herself  more  actively 
about  household  matters,  and  ceased  to  speak  of  the  un 
certain  contingency  which  had  been  so  constantly  present 
in  her  thoughts.  In  fact,  she  and  her  father  had  changed 
places.  She  was  now  the  one  who  preached  patience,  who 
held  before  them  all  the  bright  side  of  their  lot,  who 
brought  Margaret  Alison  to  the  house  and  justified  her 
dead  brother's  heart  to  his  father's,  and  who  repeated  to 
the  latter,  in  his  restless  moods,  "  De  Courcy  foresaw  the 
truth,  and  we  must  all  in  the  end  decide  as  he  did." 


96  TALES    OF    HOME. 

"  Can  thee  do  it,  Sylvia  ?  "  her  father  would  ask. 

"  I  believe  I  have  done  it  already,"  she  said.  "  If  it 
seems  difficult,  pray  consider  how  much  later  I  begin  my 
work.  I  have  had  all  your  memories  in  charge,  and  now  I 
must  not  only  forget  for  myself,  but  for  you  as  well." 

Indeed,  as  the  spring  and  summer  months  came  and 
went,  Sylvia  evidently  grew  stronger  in  her  determination. 
The  fret  of  her  idle  force  was  allayed,  and  her  content  in 
creased  as  she  saw  and  performed  the  possible  duties  of 
her  life.  Perhaps  her  father  might  have  caught  something 
of  her  spirit,  but  for  his  anxiety  in  regard  to  the  suspended 
correspondence.  He  wearied  himself  in  guesses,  which 
all  ended  in  the  simple  fact  that,  to  escape  embarrass 
ment,  the  rent  must  again  be  saved  from  the  earnings  of 
the  farm. 

The  harvests  that  year  were  bountiful ;  wheat,  barley  ? 
and  oats  stood  thick  and  heavy  in  the  fields.  No  one 
showed  more  careful  thrift  or  more  cheerful  industry  than 
young  Joel  Bradbury,  and  the  family  felt  that  much  of  the 
fortune  of  their  harvest  was  owing  to  him. 

On  the  first  day  after  the  crops  had  been  securely 
housed,  all  went  to  meeting,  except  Sylvia.  In  the  walled 
graveyard  the  sod  was  already  green  over  De  Courcy's 
unmarked  mound,  but  Alice  had  planted  a  little  rose-tree 
at  the  head,  and  she  and  her  mother  always  visited  the 
spot  before  taking  their  seats  on  the  women's  side.  The 
meeting-house  was  very  full  that  day,  as  the  busy  season 
of  the  summer  was  over,  and  the  horses  of  those  who  lived 
at  a  distance  had  no  longer  such  need  of  rest. 


THE    STRANGE    FRIEND.  97 

It  was  a  sultry  forenoon,  and  the  windows  and  doors 
of  the  building  were  open.  The  humming  of  insects  was 
heard  in  the  silence,  and  broken  lights  and  shadows  of  the 
poplar-leaves  were  sprinkled  upon  the  steps  and  sills. 
Outside  there  were  glimpses  of  quiet  groves  and  orchards, 
and  blue  fragments  of  sky, — no  more  semblance  of  life  in 
the  external  landscape  than  there  was  in  the  silent  meet 
ing  within.  Some  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  shaking 
of  hands  took  place,  the  hoofs  of  a  horse  were  heard  in 
the  meeting-house  yard — the  noise  of  a  smart  trot  on  the 
turf,  suddenly  arrested. 

The  boys  pricked  up  their  ears  at  this  unusual  sound, 
and  stole  glances  at  each  other  when  they  imagined  them 
selves  unseen  by  the  awful  faces  in  the  gallery.  Presently 
those  nearest  the  door  saw  a  broader  shadow  fall  over 
those  flickering  upon  the  stone.  A  red  face  appeared  for 
a  moment,  and  was  then  drawn  back  out  of  sight.  The 
shadow  advanced  and  receded,  in  a  state  of  peculiar  rest 
lessness.  Sometimes  the  end  of  a  riding-whip  was  visi 
ble,  sometimes  the  corner  of  a  coarse  gray  coat.  The  boys 
who  noticed  these  apparitions  were  burning  with  impa 
tience,  but  they  dared  not  leave  their  seats  until  Abraham 
Bradbury  had  reached  his  hand  to  Henry  Donnelly. 

Then  they  rushed  out.  The  mysterious  personage  was 
still  beside  the  door,  leaning  against  the  wall.  He  was  a 
short,  thick-set  man  of  fifty,  with  red  hair,  round  gray 
eyes,  a  broad  pug  "nose,  and  projecting  mouth.  He  wore 
a  heavy  gray  coat,  despite  the  heat,  and  a  waistcoat  with 
many  brass  buttons  ;  also  corduroy  breeches  and  riding 


98  TALES    OF    HOME. 

boots.  When  they  appeared,  he  started  forward  with  open 
mouth  and  eyes,  and  stared  wildly  in  their  faces.  They 
gathered  around  the  poplar-trunks,  and  waited  with  some 
uneasiness  to  see  what  would  follow. 

Slowly  and  gravely,  with  the  half-broken  ban  of  silence 
still  hanging  over  them,  the  people  issued  from  the  house. 
The  strange  man  stood,  leaning  forward,  and  seemed  to 
devour  each,  in  turn,  with  his  eager  eyes.  After  the  young 
men  came  the  fathers  of  families,  and  lastly  the  old  men 
from  the  gallery  seats.  Last  of  these  came  Henry  Don 
nelly.  In  the  meantime,  all  had  seen  and  wondered  at 
the  waiting  figure  ;  its  attitude  was  too  intense  and  self- 
forgetting  to  be  misinterpreted.  The  greetings  and  re 
marks  were  suspended  until  the  people  had  seen  for  whom 
the  man  waited,  and  why. 

Henry  Donnelly  had  no  sooner  set  his  foot  upon  the 
door-step  than,  with  something  between  a  shout  and  a 
howl,  the  stranger  darted  forward,  seized  his  hand,  and 
fell  upon  one  knee,  crying  :  "  O  my  lord  !  my  lord  !  Glory 
be  to  God  that  I've  found  ye  at  last ! " 

If  these  words  burst  like  a  bomb  on  the  ears  of  the 
people,  what  was  their  consternation  when  Henry  Don 
nelly  exclaimed,  "  The  Divel !  Jack  O'Neil,  can  that  be 
you  ? " 

"  It's  me,  meself,  my  lord  !  When  we  heard  the  letters 
went  wrong  last  year,  I  said  '  I'll  trust  no  such  good  news 
to  their  blasted  mail-posts:  I'll  go  meself  and  carry  it  to 
his  lordship, — if  it  is  t'other  side  o'  the  say.  Him  and 
my  lady  and  all  the  chi  Idren  went,  and  sure  I  can  go  too 


THE    STRANGE    FRIEND.  99 

And  as  I  was  the  one  that  went  with  you  from  Dunleigh 
Castle,  I'll  go  back  with  you  to  that  same,  for  it  stands 
awaitin',  and  blessed  be  the  day  that  sees  you  back  in 
your  ould  place  !  '* 

"  All  clear,  Jack  ?     All  mine  again  ? " 

"  You  may  believe  it,  my  lord !  And  money  in  the 
chest  beside.  But  where's  my  lady,  bless  her  sweet  face  ! 
Among  yon  women,  belike,  and  you'll  help  me  to  find  her, 
for  it's  herself  must  have  the  news  next,  and  then  the 
young  master — " 

With  that  word  Henry  Donnelly  awoke  to  a  sense  of 
time  and  place.  He  found  himself  within  a  ring  of  star 
ing,  wondering,  scandalized  eyes.  He  met  them  boldly, 
with  a  proud,  though  rather  grim  smile,  took  hold  of 
O'Neil's  arm  and  led  him  towards  the  women's  end  of  the 
house,  where  the  sight  of  Susan  in  her  scoop  bonnet  so 
moved  the  servant's  heart  that  he  melted  into  tears.  Both 
husband  and  wife  were  eager  to  get  home  and  hear 
O'Neil's  news  in  private ;  so  they  set  out  at  once  in  their 
plain  carriage,  followed  by  the  latter  on  horseback.  As  for 
the  Friends,  they  went  home  in  a  state  of  bewilderment. 

Alice  Donnelly,  with  her  brother  Henry  and  Joel 
Bradbury,  returned  on  foot.  The  two  former  remembered 
O'Neil,  and,  although  they  had  not  witnessed  his  first  in 
terview  with  their  father,  they  knew  enough  of  the  family 
history  to  surmise  his  errand.  Joel  was  silent  and  troub 
led. 

"  Alice,  I  hope  it  doesn't  mean  that  we  are  going  back, 
don't  you  ?  "  said  Henry. 


100  TALES    OF    HOME. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  and  said  no  more. 

They  took  a  foot-path  across  the  fields,  and  reached 
the  farm-house  at  the  same  time  with  the  first  party.  As 
they  opened  the  door  Sylvia  descended  the  staircase  dress 
ed  in  a  rich  shimmering  brocade,  with  a  necklace  of  ame 
thysts  around  her  throat.  To  their  eyes,  so  long  accus 
tomed  to  the  absence  of  positive  color,  she  was  completely 
dazzling.  There  was  a  new  color  on  her  cheeks,  and 
her  eyes  seemed  larger  and  brighter.  She  made  a  stately 
courtesy,  and  held  open  the  parlor  door. 

"  Welcome,  Lord  Henry  Dunleigh,  of  Dunleigh  Cas 
tle  ! "  she  cried  ;  "  welcome,  Lady  Dunleigh  !  " 

Her  father  kissed  her  on  the  forehead.  "  Now  give  us 
back  our  memories,  Sylvia ! "  he  said,  exultingly. 

Susan  Donnelly  sank  into  a  chair,  overcome  by  the 
mixed  emotions  of  the  moment. 

"  Come  in,  my  faithful  Jack  !  Unpack  thy  portman 
teau  of  news,  for  I  see  thou  art  bursting  to  show  it;  let 
us  have  every  thing  from  the  beginning.  Wife,  it's  a  little 
too  much  for  thee,  coming  so  unexpectedly.  Set  out  the 
wine,  Alice ! " 

The  decanter  was  placed  upon  the  table.  O'Neil  fill 
ed  a  tumbler  to  the  brim,  lifted  it  high,  made  two  or  three 
hoarse  efforts  to  speak,  and  then  walked  away  to  the  win 
dow,  where  he  drank  in  silence.  This  little  incident  touch 
ed  the  family  more  than  the  announcement  of  their  good 
fortune.  Henry  Donnelly's  feverish  exultation  subsided  : 
he  sat  down  with  a  grave,  thoughtful  face,  while  his  wife 
wept  quietly  beside  him.  Sylvia  stood  waiting  with  an 


THE    STRANGE    FRIEND.  IOI 

abstracted  air;  Alice  removed  her  mother's  bonnet  and 
shawl ;  and  Henry  and  Joel,  seated  together  at  the  farther 
end  of  the  room,  looked  on  in  silent  anticipation. 

O'Neil's  story  was  long,  and  frequently  interrupted. 
He  had  been  Lord  Dunleigh's  steward  in  better  days,  as 
his  father  had  been  to  the  old  lord,  and  was  bound  to  the 
family  by  the  closest  ties  of  interest  and  affection.  When 
the  estates  became  so  encumbered  that  either  an  immedi 
ate  change  or  a  catastrophe  was  inevitable,  he  had  been 
taken  into  his  master's  confidence  concerning  the  plan 
which  had  first  been  proposed  in  jest,  and  afterwards 
adopted  in  earnest.  The  family  must  leave  Dunleigh  Cas 
tle  for  a  period  of  probably  eight  or  ten  years,  and  seek 
some  part  of  the  world  where  their  expenses  could  be  re 
duced  to  the  lowest  possible  figure.  In  Germany  or  Italy 
there  would  be  the  annoyance  of  a  foreign  race  and  lan 
guage,  of  meeting  of  tourists  belonging  to  the  circle  in 
which  they  had  moved,  a  dangerous  idleness  for  their  sons, 
and  embarrassing  restrictions  for  their  daughters.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  suggestion  to  emigrate  to  America 
and  become  Quakers  during  their  exile  offered  more  ad 
vantages  the  more  they  considered  it.  It  was  original  in 
character ;  it  offered  them  economy,  seclusion,  entire  lib 
erty  of  action  inside  the  limits  of  the  sect,  the  best  moral 
atmosphere  for  their  children,  and  an  occupation  which 
would  not  deteriorate  what  was  best  in  their  blood  and 
breeding. 

How  Lord  Dunleigh  obtained  admission  into  the  sect 
as  plain  Henry  Donnelly  is  a  matter  of  conjecture  with 


IO2  TALES    OF    HOME. 

the  Londongrove  Friends.  The  deception  which  had 
been  practised  upon  them— although  it  was  perhaps  less 
complete  than  they  imagined — left  a  soreness  of  feeling 
behind  it.  The  matter  was  hushed  up  after  the  departure 
of  the  family,  and  one  might  now  live  for  years  in  the 
neighborhood  without  hearing  the  story.  How  the  shrewd 
plan  was  carried  out  by  Lord  Dunleigh  and  his  family, 
we  have  already  learned.  O'Neil,  left  on  the  estate,  in 
the  north  of  Ireland,  did  his  part  with  equal  fidelity.  He 
not  only  filled  up  the  gaps  made  by  his  master's  early 
profuseness,  but  found  means  to  move  the  sympathies  of 
a  cousin  of  the  latter — a  rich,  eccentric  old  bachelor, 
who  had  long  been  estranged  by  a  family  quarrel.  To 
this  cousin  he  finally  confided  the  character  of  the  exile, 
and  at  a  lucky  time ;  for  the  cousin's  will  was  altered  in 
Lord  Dunleigh's  favor,  and  he  died  before  his  mood  of 
reconciliation  passed  away.  Now,  the  estate  was  not  only 
unencumbered,  but  there  was  a  handsome  surplus  in  the 
hands  of  the  Dublin  bankers.  The  family  might  return 
whenever  they  chose,  and  there  would  be  a  festival  to  wel 
come  them,  O'Neil  said,  such  as  Dunleigh  Castle  had 
never  known  since  its  foundations  were  laid. 

"  Let  us  go  at  once !  "  said  Sylvia,  when  he  had  con 
cluded  his  tale.  "No  more  masquerading, — I  never 
knew  until  to-day  how  much  I  have  hated  it !  I  will  not 
say  that  your  plan  was  not  a  sensible  one,  father ;  but  I 
wish  it  might  have  been  carried  out  with  more  honor  to 
ourselves.  Since  De  Courcy's  death  I  have  begun  to  ap 
preciate  our  neighbors  :  I  was  resigned  to  become  one  of 


THE    STRANGE    FRIEND.  103 

these  people  had  our  luck  gone  the  other  way.  Will 
they  give  us  any  credit  for  goodness  and  truth,  I  wonder  ? 
Yes,  in  mother's  case,  and  Alice's ;  and  I  believe  both  of 
them  would  give  up  Dunleigh  Castle  for  this  little  farm." 

"Then,"  her  father  exclaimed,  "it  is  time  that  we 
should  return,  and  without  delay.  But  thee  wrongs  us 
somewhat,  Sylvia :  it  has  not  all  been  masquerading.  We 
have  become  the  servants,  rather  than  the  masters,  of  our 
own  parts,  and  shall  live  a  painful  and  divided  life  until 
we  get  back  in  our  old  place.  I  fear  me  it  will  always  be 
divided  for  thee,  wife,  and  Alice  and  Henry.  If  I  am 
subdued  by  the  element  which  I  only  meant  to  asssume, 
how  much  more  deeply  must  it  have  wrought  in  your  na 
tures  !  Yes,  Sylvia  is  right,  we  must  get  away  at  once. 
To-morrow  we  must  leave  Londongrove  forever !  " 

He  had  scarcely  spoken,  when  a  new  surprise  fell 
upon  the  family.  Joel  Bradbury  arose  and  walked  for 
ward,  as  if  thrust  by  an  emotion  so  powerful  that  it  trans 
formed  his  whole  being.  He  seemed  to  forget  every 
thing  but  Alice  Donnelly's  presence.  His  soft  brown 
eyes  were  fixed  on  her  face  with  an  expression  of  unutter 
able  tenderness  and  longing.  He  caught  her  by  the 
hands.  " Alice,  O,  Alice !"  burst  from  his  lips;  "you 
are  not  going  to  leave  me  ?  " 

The  flush  in  the  girl's  sweet  face  faded  into  a  deadly- 
paleness.  A  moan  came  from  her  lips ;  her  head  drop 
ped,  and  she  would  have  fallen,  swooning,  from  the  chair 
had  not  Joel  knelt  at  her  feet  and  caught  her  upon  his 
breast. 


104  TALES    OF    HOME. 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence  in  the  room. 

Presently,  Sylvia,  all  her  haughtiness  gone,  knelt  be 
side  the  young  man,  and  took  her  sister  from  his  arms. 
"  Joel,  my  poor,  dear  friend,"  she  said,  "  I  am  sorry  that 
the  last,  worst  mischief  we  have  done  must  fall  upon  you." 

Joel  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  convulsively 
uttered  the  words,  "Must. she  go?" 

Then  Henry  Donnelly — or,  rather,  Lord  Dunleigh,  as 
we  must  now  call  him — took  the  young  man's  hand.  He 
was  profoundly  moved ;  his  strong  voice  trembled,  and 
his  words  came  slowly.  "  I  will  not  appeal  to  thy  heart, 
Joel,"  he  said,  "for  it  would  not  hear  me  now.  But  thou 
hast  heard  all  our  story,  and  knowest  that  we  must  leave 
these  parts,  never  to  return.  We  belong  to  another  station 
and  another  mode  of  life  than  yours,  and  it  must  come  to 
us  as  a  good  fortune  that  our  time  of  probation  is  at  an  end. 
Bethink  thee,  could  we  leave  our  darling  Alice  behind  us, 
parted  as  if  by  the  grave  ?  Nay,  could  we  rob  her  of  the 
life  to  which  she  is  born — of  her  share  in  our  lives?  On 
the  other  hand,  could  we  take  thee  with  us  into  relations 
where  thee  would  always  be  a  stranger,  and  in  which  a 
nature  like  thine  has  no  place  ?  This  is  a  case  where 
duty  speaks  clearly,  though  so  hard,  so  very  hard,  to 
follow." 

He  spoke  tenderly,  but  inflexibly,  and  Joel  felt  that 
his  fate  was  pronounced.  When  Alice  had  somewhat 
revived,  and  was  taken  to  another  room,  he  stumbled 
blindly  out  of  the  house,  made  his  way  to  the  barn,  and 
there  flung  himself  upon  the  harvest-sheaves  which,  three 


THE    STRANGE    FRIEND.  105 

days  before,  he  had  bound  with  such  a  timid,  delicious 
hope  working  in  his  arm. 

The  day  which  brought  such  great  fortune  had  thus  a 
sad  and  troubled  termination.  It  was  proposed  that  the 
family  should  start  for  Philadelphia  on  the  morrow,  leav 
ing  O'Neil  to  pack  up  and  remove  such  furniture  as  they 
wished  to  retain ;  but  Susan,  Lady  Dunleigh,  could  not 
forsake  the  neighborhood  without  a  parting  visit  to  the 
good  friends  who  had  mourned  with  her  over  her  first 
born  ;  and  Sylvia  was  with  her  in  this  wish.  So  two 
more  days  elapsed,  and  then  the  Dunleighs  passed  down 
the  Street  Road,  and  the  plain  farm-house  was  gone  from 
their  eyes  forever.  Two  grieved  over  the  loss  of  their 
happy  home;  one  was  almost  broken-hearted;  and  the 
remaining  two  felt  that  the  trouble  of  the  present  clouded 
all  their  happiness  in  the  return  to  rank  and  fortune. 

They  went,  and  they  never  came  again.  An  account 
of  the  great  festival  at  Dunleigh  Castle  reached  London- 
grove  two  years  later,  through  an  Irish  laborer,  who 
brought  to  Joel  Bradbury  a  letter  of  recommendation 
signed  "  Dunleigh."  Joel  kept  the  man  upon  his  farm, 
and  the  two  preserved  the  memory  of  the  family  long 
after  the  neighborhood  had  ceased  to  speak  of  it.  Joel 
never  married  ;  he  still  lives  in  the  house  where  the  great 
sorrow  of  his  life  befell.  His  head  is  gray,  and  his  face 
deeply  wrinkled ;  but  when  he  lifts  the  shy  lids  of  his 
soft  brown  eyes,  I  fancy  I  can  see.  in  their  tremulous 
depths  the  lingering  memory  of  his  love  for  Alice  Dun 
leigh. 

5* 


JACOB  FLINT'S  JOURNEY. 

F  there  ever  was  a  man  crushed  out  of 
all  courage,  all  self-reliance,  all  comfort 
in  life,  it  was  Jacob  Flint.  Why  this 
should  have  been,  neither  he  nor  any 
one  else  could  have  explained ;  but  so 
it  was.  On  the  day  that  he  first  went 
to  school,  his  shy,  frightened  face  marked  him  as  fair 
game  for  the  rougher  and  stronger  boys,  and  they  sub 
jected  him  to  all  those  exquisite  refinements  of  torture 
which  boys  seem  to  get  by  the  direct  inspiration  of  the 
Devil.  There  was  no  form  of  their  bullying  meanness  or 
the  cowardice  of  their  brutal  strength  which  he  did  not 
experience.  He  was  born  under  a  fading  or  falling  star, 
— the  inheritor  of  some  anxious  or  unhappy  mood  of  his 
parents,  which  gave  its  fast  color  to  the  threads  out  of 
which  his  innocent  being  was  woven. 

Even  the  good  people  of  the  neighborhood,  never  ac 
customed  to  look  below  the  externals  of  appearance  and 
manner,  saw  in  his  shrinking  face  and  awkward  motions 
only  the  signs  of  a  cringing,  abject  soul.  "You'll  be  no 


108  TALES    OF    HOME. 

more  of  a  man  than  Jake  Flint !  "  was  the  reproach  which 
many  a  farmer  addressed  to  his  dilatory  boy  ;  and  thus 
the  parents,  one  and  all,  came  to  repeat  the  sins  of  the 
children. 

If,  therefore,  at  school  and  "before  folks,"  Jacob's 
position  was  always  uncomfortable  and  depressing,  it  was 
little  more  cheering  at  home.  His  parents,  as  all  the 
neighbors  believed,  had  been  unhappily  married,  and, 
though  the  mother  died  in  his  early  childhood,  his  father 
remained  a  moody,  unsocial  man,  who  rarely  left  his  farm 
except  on  the  ist  of  April  every  year,  when  he  went  to 
the  county  town  for  the  purpose  of  paying  the  interest 
upon  a  mortgage.  The  farm  lay  in  a  hollow  between  two 
hills,  separated  from  the  road  by  a  thick  wood,  and  the 
chimneys  of  the  lonely  old  house  looked  in  vain  for  a 
neighbor-smoke  when  they  began  to  grow  warm  of  a 
morning. 

Beyond  the  barn  and  under  the  northern  hill  there 
was  a  log  tenant-house,  in  which  dwelt  a  negro  couple, 
who,  in  the  course  of  years  had  become  fixtures  on  the 
place  and  almost  partners  in  it.  Harry,  the  man,  was  the 
medium  by  which  Samuel  Flint  kept  up  his  necessary  in 
tercourse  with  the  world  beyond  the  valley  ;  he  took  the 
horses  to  the  blacksmith,  the  grain  to  the  mill,  the  turkeys 
to  market,  and  through  his  hands  passed  all  the  incomings 
and  outgoings  of  the  farm,  except  the  annual  interest  on 
the  mortgage.  Sally,  his  wife,  took  care  of  the  household, 
which,  indeed,  was  a  light  and  comfortable  task,  since 
the  table  was  well  supplied  for  her  own  sake,  and  there  was 


JACOB  FLINT'S  JOURNEY.  109 

no  sharp  eye  to  criticise  her  sweeping,  dusting,  and  bed- 
making.  The  place  had  a  forlorn,  tumble-down  aspect, 
quite  in  keeping  with  its  lonely  situation  ;  but  perhaps 
this  very  circumstance  flattered  the  mood  of  its  silent, 
melancholy  owner  and  his  unhappy  son. 

In  all  the  neighborhood  there  was  but  one  person 
with  whom  Jacob  felt  completely  at  ease — but  one  who 
never  joined  in  the  general  habit  of  making  his  name 
the  butt  of  ridicule  or  contempt.  This  was  Mrs.  Ann 
Pardon,  the  hearty,  active  wife  of  Farmer  Robert  Pardon, 
who  lived  nearly  a  mile  farther  down  the  brook.  Jacob 
had  won  her  good-will  by  some  neighborly  services,  some 
thing  so  trifling,  indeed,  that  the  thought  of  a  favor  con 
ferred  never  entered  his  mind.  Ann  Pardon  saw  that  it 
did  not ;  she  detected  a  streak  of  most  unconscious  good 
ness  under  his  uncouth,  embarrassed  ways,  and  she  deter 
mined  to  cultivate  it.  No  little  tact  was  required,  how 
ever,  to  coax  the  wild,  forlorn  creature  into  so  much  confi 
dence  as  she  desired  to  establish  ;  but  tact  is  a  native  qual 
ity  of  the  heart  no  less  than  a  social  acquirement,  and  so  she 
did  the  very  thing  necessary  without  thinking  much  about  it. 

Robert  Pardon  discovered  by  and  by  that  Jacob  was  a 
steady,  faithful  hand  in  the  harvest-field  at  husking-time, 
or  whenever  any  extra  labor  was  required,  and  Jacob's 
father  made  no  objection  to  his  earning  a  penny  in  this 
way ;  and  so  he  fell  into  the  habit  of  spending  his  Satur 
day  evenings  at  the  Pardon  farm-house,  at  first  to  talk  over 
matters  of  work,  and  finally  because  it  had  become  a  wel 
come  relief  from  his  dreary  life  at  home. 


1 10  TALES    OF    HOME. 

Now  it  happened  that  on  a  Saturday  in  the  beginning 
of  haying-time,  the  village  tailor  sent  home  by  Harry  a 
new  suit  of  light  summer  clothes,  for  which  Jacob  had 
been  measured  a  month  before.  After  supper  he  tried 
them  on,  the  day's  work  being  over,  and  Sally's  admir 
ation  was  so  loud  and  emphatic  that  he  felt  himself  grow 
ing  red  even  to  the  small  of  his  back. 

"  Now,  don't  go  for  to  take  'em  off,  Mr.  Jake,"  said 
she.  "  I  spec'  you're  gwine  down  to  Pardon's,  and  so  you 
jist  keep  'em  on  to  show  'em  all  how  nice  you  kin  look." 

The  same  thought  had  already  entered  Jacob's  mind. 
Poor  fellow  !  It  was  the  highest  form  of  pleasure  of  which 
he  had  ever  allowed  himself  to  conceive.  If  he  had  been 
called  upon  to  pass  through  the  village  on  first  assuming 
the  new  clothes,  every  stitch  would  have  pricked  him  as 
if  the  needle  remained  in  it ;  but  a  quiet  walk  down  the 
brookside,  by  the  pleasant  path  through  the  thickets  and 
over  the  fragrant  meadows,  with  a  consciousness  of  his 
own  neatness  and  freshness  at  every  step,  and  with  kind 
Ann  Pardon's  commendation  at  the  close,  and  the  flat 
tering  curiosity  of  the  children, — the  only  ones  who  never 
made  fun  of  him, — all  that  was  a  delightful  prospect.  He 
could  never,  never  forget  himself,  as  he  had  seen  other 
young  fellows  do ;  but  to  remember  himself  agreeably  was 
certainly  the  next  best  thing. 

Jacob  was  already  a  well-grown  man  of  twenty-three, 
and  would  have  made  a  good  enough  appearance  but  for 
the  stoop  in  his  shoulders,  and  the  drooping,  uneasy  way 
in  which  he  carried  his  head.  Many  a  time  when  he  was 


JACOB  FLINT'S  JOURNEY.  in 

alone  in  the  fields  or  woods  he  had  straightened  himself, 
and  looked  courageously  at  the  buts  of  the  oak-trees  or  in 
the  very  eyes  of  the  indifferent  oxen  ;  but,  when  a  human 
face  drew  near,  some  spring  in  his  neck  seemed  to  snap, 
some  buckle  around  his  shoulders  to  be  drawn  three  holes 
tighter,  and  he  found  himself  in  the  old  posture.  The 
ever-present  thought  of  this  weakness  was  the  only  drop 
of  bitterness  in  his  cup,  as  he  followed  the  lonely  path 
through  the  thickets. 

Some  spirit  in  the  sweet,  delicious  freshness  of  the 
air,  some  voice  in  the  mellow  babble  of  the  stream,  leap 
ing  in  and  out  of  sigh:  between  the  alders,  some  smile  of 
light,  lingering  on  the  rising  corn-fields  beyond  the  mead 
ow  and  the  melting  purple  of  a  distant  hill,  reached  to 
the  seclusion  of  his  heart.  He  was  soothed  and  cheered  ; 
his  head  lifted  itself  in  the  presentiment  of  a  future  less 
lonely  than  the  past,  and  the  everlasting  trouble  vanished 
from  his  eyes. 

Suddenly,  at  a  turn  of  the  path,  two  mowers  from  the 
meadow,  with  their  scythes  upon  their  shoulders,  came 
upon  him.  He  had  not  heard  their  feet  on  the  deep  turf. 
His  chest  relaxed,  and  his  head  began  to  sink  ;  then,  with 
the  most  desperate  effort  in  his  life,  he  lifted  it  again,  and, 
darting  ,a  rapid  side  glance  at  the  men,  hastened  by. 
They  could  not  understand  the  mixed  defiance  and  sup 
plication  of  his  face  ;  to  them  he  only  looked  "  queer." 

"  Been  committin'  a  murder,  have  you  ?  "  asked  one 
of  them,  grinning. 

"  Startin'  off  on  his  journey,  I  guess,"  said  the  other. 


112  TALES     OF    HOME. 

The  next  instant  they  were  gone,  and  Jacob,  with  set 
teeth  and  clinched  hands,  smothered  something  that 
would  have  been  a  howl  if  he  had  given  it  voice.  Sharp 
lines  of  pain  were  marked  on  his  face,  and,  for  the  first 
time,  the  idea  of  resistance  took  fierce  and  bitter  posses 
sion  of  his  heart.  But  the  mood  was  too  unusual  to  last ; 
presently  he  shook  his  head,  and  walked  on  towards  Par 
don's  farm-hou-se. 

Ann  wore  a  smart  gingham  dress,  and  her  first  excla 
mation  was:  "Why,  Jake!  how  nice  you  look.  And  so 
you  know  all  about  it,  too  ?  " 

"  About  what  ? " 

"  I  see  you  don't,"  said  she.  "  I  was  too  fast ;  but  it 
makes  no  difference.  I  know  you  are  willing  to  lend  me 
a  helping  hand." 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure,"  Jacob  answered. 

"  And  not  mind  a  little  company  ? " 

Jacob's  face  suddenly  clouded ;  but  he  said,  though 
with  an  effort :  "  No — not  much — if  I  can  be  of  any 
help." 

"  It's  rather  a  joke,  after  all,"  Ann  Pardon  continued, 
speaking  rapidly. ;  "  they  meant  a  surprise,  a  few  of  the 
young  people  ;  but-  sister  Becky  found  a  way  to  send  me 
word,  or  I  might  have  been  caught  like  Meribah  Johnson 
last  week,  in  the  middle  of  my  work  ;  eight  or  ten,  she 
said,  but  more  may  drop  in  :  and  it's  moonlight  and  warm, 
so  they'll  be  mostly  under  the  trees ;  and  Robert  won't 
be  home  till  late,  and  I  do  want  help  in  carrying  chairs, 
and  getting  up  some  ice,  and  handing  around ;  and, 


JACOB  FLINT'S  JOURNEY.  113 

though  I  know  you  don't  care  for  merry-makings,  you  can 
help  me  out,  you  see — " 

Here  she  paused.  Jacob  looked  perplexed,  but  said 
nothing. 

"  Becky  will  help  what  she  can,  and  while  I'm  in  the 
kitchen  she'll  have  an  eye  to  things  outside,"  she  said. 

Jacob's  head  was  down  again,  and,  moreover,  turned 
on  one  side,  but  his  ear  betrayed  the  mounting  blood. 
Finally  he  answered,  in  a  quick,  husky  voice :  "  Well,  I'll 
do  what  I  can.  What's  first  ? " 

Thereupon  he  began  to  carry  some  benches  from 
the  veranda  to  a  grassy  bank  beside  the  sycamore-tree. 
Ann  Pardon  wisely  said  no  more  of  the  coming  surprise- 
party,  but  kept  him  so  employed  that,  as  the  visitors  ar 
rived  by  twos  and  threes,  the  merriment  was  in  full  play 
almost  before  he  was  aware  of  it.  Moreover,  the  night 
was  a  protecting  presence  :  the  moonlight  poured  splen 
didly  upon  the  open  turf  beyond  the  sycamore,  but  every 
lilac-bush  or  trellis  of  woodbine  made  a  nook  of  shade, 
wherein  he  could  pause  a  moment  and  take  courage  for 
his  duties.  Becky  Morton,  Ann  Pardon's  youngest  sis 
ter,  frightened  him  a  little  every  time  she  came  to  con 
sult  about  the  arrangement  of  seats  or  the  distribution  of 
refreshments  ;  but  it  was  a  delightful,  fascinating  fear, 
such  as  he  had  never  felt  before  in  his  life.  He  knew 
Becky,  but  he  had  never  seen  her  in  white  and  pink,  with 
floating  tresses,  until  now.  In  fact,  he  had  hardly  looked 
at  her  fairly,  but  now,  as  she  glided  into  the  moonlight 
and  he  paused  in  the  shadow,  his  eyes  took  note  of  her 


114  TALES    OF    HOME. 

exceeding  beauty.  Some  sweet,  confusing  influence,  he 
knew  not  what,  passed  into  his  blood. 

The  young  men  had  brought  a  fiddler  from  the  vil 
lage,  and  it  was  not  long  before  most  of  the  company  were 
treading  the  measures  of  reels  or  cotillons  on  the  grass. 
How  merry  and  happy  they  all  were  !  How  freely  and 
unembarrassedly  they  moved  and  talked  !  By  and  by  all 
became  involved  in  the  dance,  and  Jacob,  left  alone  and 
unnoticed,  drew  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  gay  and  beauti 
ful  life  from  which  he  was  expelled. 

With  a  long-drawn  scream  of  the  fiddle  the  dance 
came  to  an  end,  and  the  dancers,  laughing,  chattering, 
panting,  and  fanning  themselves,  broke  into  groups  and 
scattered  over  the  enclosure  before  the  house.  Jacob  was 
surrounded  before  he  could  escape.  Becky,  with  two 
lively  girls  in  her  wake,  came  up  to  him  and  said  :  "  Oh 
Mr.  Flint,  why  don't  you  dance  ? " 

If  he  had  stopped  to  consider,  he  would  no  doubt 
have  replied  very  differently.  But  a  hundred  questions, 
stirred  by  what  he  had  seen,  were  clamoring  for  light,  and 
they  threw  the  desperate  impulse  to  his  lips. 

"  If  I  could  dance,  would  you  dance  with  me  ? " 

The  two  lively  girls  heard  the  words,  and  looked  at 
Becky  with  roguish  faces. 

"  Oh  yes,  take  him  for  your  next  partner !  "  cried  one. 

"  I  will,"  said  Becky,  "  after  he  comes  back  from  his 
journey." 

Then  all  three  laughed.  Jacob  leaned  against  the 
tree,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 


JACOB  FLINT'S  JOURNEY.  115 

"  Is  it  a  bargain  ? "  asked  one  of  the  girls. 

"  No,"  said  he,  and  walked  rapidly  away. 

He  went  to  the  house,  and,  finding  that  Robert  had 
arrived,  took  his  hat,  and  left  by  the  rear  door.  There 
was  a  grassy  alley  between  the  orchard  and  garden,  from 
which  it  was  divided  by  a  high  hawthorn  hedge.  He  had 
scarcely  taken  three  paces  on  his  way  to  the  meadow, 
when  the  sound  of  the  voice  he  had  last  heard,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  hedge,  arrested  his  feet. 

"Becky,  I  think  you  rather  hurt  Jake  Flint,"  said  the 
girl. 

"  Hardly,"  answered  Becky  ;  "he's  used  to  that." 

"  Not  if  he  likes  you ;  and  you  might  go  further  and 
fare  worse." 

"  Well,  I  must  say  !  "  Becky  exclaimed,  with  a  laugh ; 
"  you'd  like  to  see  me  stuck  in  that  hollow,  out  of  your 
way  !  " 

"  It's  a  good  farm,  I've  heard,"  said  the  other. 

"  Yes,  and  covered  with  as  much  as  it'll  bear !  " 

Here  the  girls  were  called  away  to  the  dance.  Jacob 
slowly  walked  up  the  dewy  meadow,  the  sounds  of  fid 
dling,  singing,  and  laughter  growing  fainter  behind  him. 

"  My  journey  ! "  he  repeated  to  himself, — "  my  jour 
ney  !  why  shouldn't  I  start  on  it  now  ?  Start  off,  and 
never  come  back  ? " 

It  was  a  very  little  thing,  after  all,  which  annoyed  him, 
but  the  mention  of  it  always  touched  a  sore  nerve  of  his 
nature.  A  dozen  years  before,  when  a  boy  at  school,  he 
had  made  a  temporary  friendship  with  another  boy  of  his 


Il6  TALES    OF    HOME. 

age,  and  had  one  day  said  to  the  latter,  in  the  warmth  of 
his  first  generous  confidence  :  "  When  I  am  a  little  older, 
I  shall  make  a  great  journey,  and  come  back  rich,  and  buy 
Whitney's  place  !  " 

Now,  Whitney's  place,  with  its  stately  old  brick  man 
sion,  its  avenue  of  silver  firs,  and  its  two  hundred  acres  of 
clean,  warm-lying  land,  was  the  finest,  the  most  aristocratic 
property  in  all  the  neighborhood,  and  the  boy-friend  could 
not  resist  the  temptation  of  repeating  Jacob's  grand  design, 
for  the  endless  amusement  of  the  school.  The  betrayal 
hurt  Jacob  more  keenly  than  the  ridicule.  It  left  a  wound 
that  never  ceased  to  rankle  ;  yet,  with  the  inconceivable 
perversity  of  unthinking  natures,  precisely  this  joke  (as 
the  people  supposed  it  to  be)  had  been  perpetuated,  until 
"  Jake  Flint's  Journey  "  was  a  synonyme  for  any  absurd 
or  extravagant  expectation.  Perhaps  no  one  imagined 
how  much  pain  he  was  keeping  alive  ;  for  almost  any  other 
man  than  Jacob  would  have  joined  in  the  laugh  against 
himself  and  thus  good-naturedly  buried  the  joke  in  time. 
"  He's  used  to  that,"  the  people  said,  like  Becky  Morton, 
and  they  really  supposed  there  was  nothing  unkind  in  the 
remark  ! 

After  Jacob  had  passed  the  thickets  and  entered  the 
lonely  hollow  in  which  his  father's  house  lay,  his  pace  be 
came  slower  and  slower.  He  looked  at  the  shabby  old 
building,  just  touched  by  the  moonlight  behind  the  sway 
ing  shadows  of  the  weeping-willow,  stopped,  looked  again, 
and  finally  seated  himself  on  a  stump  beside  the  path. 

"  If  I  knew  what  to  do  !  "  he  said  to  himself,  rocking 


JACOB  FLINT'S  JOURNEY.  117 

backwards  and  forwards,  with  his  hands  clasped  over  his 
knees, — "  if  I  knew  what  to  do  !  " 

The  spiritual  tension  of  the  evening  reached  its  cli 
max  :  he  could  bear  no  more.  With  a  strong  bodily  shud 
der  his  tears  burst  forth,  and  the  passion  of  his  weeping 
filled  him  from  head  to  foot.  How  long  he  wept  he  knew 
not ;  it  seemed  as  if  the  hot  fountains  would  never  run  dry. 
Suddenly  and  startlingly  a  hand  fell  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Boy,  what  does  this  mean  ?  " 

It  was  his  father  who  stood  before  him. 

Jacob  looked  up  like  some  shy  animal  brought  to  bay, 
his  eyes  full  of  a  feeling  mixed  of  fierceness  and  terror ; 
but  he  said  nothing. 

His  father  seated  himself  on  one  of  the  roots  of  the 
old  stump,  laid  one  hand  upon  Jacob's  knee,  and  said 
with  an  unusual  gentleness  of  manner,  "  I'd  like  to  know 
what  it  is  that  troubles  you  so  much." 

After  a  pause,  Jacob  suddenly  burst  forth  with  :  "  Is 
there  any  reason  why  I  should  tell  you  ?  Do  you  care  any 
more  for  me  than  the  rest  of  'em  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  know  as  you  wanted  me  to  care  for  you  par 
ticularly,"  said  the  father,  almost  deprecatingly.  "  I  al 
ways  thought  you  had  friends  of  your  own  age." 

"  Friends  ?  Devils  !  "  exclaimed  Jacob.  "  Oh,  what 
have  I  done — what  is  there  so  dreadful  about  me  that  I 
should  always  be  laughed  at,  and  despised,  and  trampled 
upon  ?  You  are  a  great  deal  older  than  I  am,  father  : 
what  do  you  see  in  me  ?  Tell  me  what  it  is,  and  how  to 
get  over  it !  '' 


IlS  TALES    OF    HOME. 

The  eyes  of  the  two  men  met.  Jacob  saw  his  father's 
face  grow  pale  in  the  moonlight,  while  he  pressed  his  hand 
involuntarily  upon  his  heart,  as  if  struggling  with  some 
physical  pain.  At  last  he  spoke,  but  his  words  were 
strange  and  incoherent. 

"  I  couldn't  sleep,"  he  said;  "  I  got  up  again  and  came 
out  o'  doors.  The  white  ox  had  broken  down  the  fence 
at  the  corner,  and  would  soon  have  been  in  the  cornfield. 
I  thought  it  was  that,  maybe,  but  still  your — your  mother 
would  come  into  my  head.  I  was  coming  down  the  edge 
of  the  wood  when  I  saw  you,  and  I  don't  know  why  it  was 
that  you  seemed  so  different,  all  at  onte — " 

Here  he  paused,  and  was  silent  for  a  minute.  Then 
he  said,  in  a  grave,  commanding  tone  :  "  Just  let  me  know 
the  whole  story.  I  have  that  much  right  yet." 

Jacob  related  the  history  of  the  evening,  somewhat 
awkwardly  and  confusedly,  it  is  true  ;  but  his  father's  brief, 
pointed  questions  kept  him  to  the  narrative,  and  forced 
him  to  explain  the  full  significance  of  the  expressions  he 
repeated.  At  the  mention  of  "  Whitney's  place,"  a  singu 
lar  expression  of  malice  touched  the  old  man's  face. 

"  Do  you  love  Becky  Morton  ?  "  he  asked  bluntly,  when 
all  had  been  told. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Jacob  stammered  ;  "  I  think  not ;  be 
cause  when  I  seem  to  like  her  most,  I  feel  afraid  of  her." 

"  It's  lucky  that  you're  not  sure  of  it  !  "  exclaimed  the 
old  man  with  energy ;  "  because  you  should  never  have  her." 

"  No,"  said  Jacob,  with  a  mournful  acquiescence,  "  I 
can  never  have  her,  or  any  other  one." 


JACOB  FLINT'S  JOURNEY.  119 

"  But  you  shall — and  will !  when  I  help  you.  It's  true 
I've  not  seemed  to  care  much  about  you,  and  I  suppose 
you're  free  to  think  as  you  like ;  but  this  I  say :  I'll  not 
stand  by  and  see  you  spit  upon  !  '  Covered  with  as  much 
as  it'll  bear  !  '  That's  a  piece  o'  luck  anyhow.  If  we're 
poor,  your  wife  must  take  your  poverty  with  you,  or  she 
don't  come  into  my  doors.  But  first  of  all  you  must  make 
your  journey  ! " 

"  My  journey  !  "  repeated  Jacob. 

"  Weren't  you  thinking  of  it  this  night,  before  you  took 
your  seat  on  that  stump  ?  A  little  more,  and  you'd  have 
gone  clean  off,  I  reckon." 

Jacob  was  silent,  and  hung  his  head. 

"  Never  mind  !  I've  no  right  to  think  hard  of  it.  In 
a  week  we'll  have  finished  our  haying,  and  then  it's  a  fort 
night  to  wheat ;  but,  for  that  matter,  Harry  and  I  can 
manage  the  wheat  by  ourselves.  You  may  take  a  month, 
two  months,  if  any  thing  comes  of  it.  Under  a  month  I 
don't  mean  that  you  shall  come  back.  I'll  give  you  twenty 
dollars  for  a  start ;  if  you  want  more  you  must  earn  it 
on  the  road,  any  way  you  please.  And,  mark  you,  Jacob  ! 
since  you  are  poor,  don't  let  anybody  suppose  you  are 
rich.  For  my  part,  I  shall  not  expect  you  to  buy  Whit 
ney's  place  j  all  I  ask  is  that  you'll  tell  me,  fair  and 
square,  just  what  things  and  what  people  you've  got  ac 
quainted  with.  Get  to  bed  now — the  matter's  settled  ;  I 
will  have  it  so." 

They  rose  and  walked  across  the  meadow  to  the  house. 
Jacob  had  quite  forgotten  the  events  of  the  evening  in  the 


120  TALES    OF    HOME. 

new  prospect  suddenly  opened  to  him,  which  filled  him  with 
a  wonderful  confusion  of  fear  and  desire.  His  father  said 
nothing  more.  They  entered  the  lonely  house  together  at 
midnight,  and  went  to  their  beds  ;  but  Jacob  slept  very 
little. 

Six  days  afterwards  he  left  home,  on  a  sparkling  June 
morning,  with  a  small  bundle  tied  in  a  yellow  silk  hand 
kerchief  under  his  arm.  His  father  had  furnished  him 
with  the  promised  money,  but  had  positively  refused  to 
tell  him  what  road  he  should  take,  or  what  plan  of  action 
he  should  adopt.  The  only  stipulation  was  that  his  ab 
sence  from  home  should  not  be  less  than  a  month. 

After  he  had  passed  the  wood  and  reached  the  high 
way  which  followed  the  course  of  the  brook,  he  paused  to 
consider  which  course  to  take.  Southward  the  road  led 
past  Pardon's,  and  he  longed  to  see  his  only  friends  once 
more  before  encountering  untried  hazards  ;  but  the  vil 
lage  was  beyond,  and  he  had  no  courage  to  walk  through 
its  one  long  street  with  a  bundle,  denoting  a  journey,  un 
der  his  arm.  Northward  he  would  have  to  pass  the  mill 
and  blacksmith's  shop  at  the  cross-roads.  Then  he  re 
membered  that  he  might  easily  wade  the  stream  at  a  point 
where  it  was  shallow,  and  keep  in  the  shelter  of  the  woods 
on  the  opposite  hill  until  he  struck  the  road  farther  on, 
and  in  that  direction  two  or  three  miles  would  take  him 
into  a  neighborhood  where  he  was  not  known. 

Once  in  the  woods,  an  exquisite  sense  of  freedom 
came  upon  him.  There  was  nothing  mocking  in  the  soft, 
graceful  stir  of  the  expanded  foliage,  in  the  twittering  of 


JACOB  FLINT'S  JOURNEY.  121 

the  unfrightened  birds,  or  the  scampering  of  the  squirrels, 
over  the  rustling  carpet  of  dead  leaves.  He  lay  down 
upon  the  moss  under  a  spreading  beech-tree  and  tried  to 
think  ;  but  the  thoughts  would  not  come.  He  could  not 
even  clearly  recall  the  keen  troubles  and  mortifications 
he  had  endured  :  all  things  were  so  peaceful  and  beauti 
ful  that  a  portion  of  their  peace  and  beauty  fell  upon  men 
and  invested  them  with  a  more  kindly  character. 

Towards  noon  Jacob  found  himself  beyond  the  limited 
geography  of  his  life.  The  first  man  he  encountered  was 
a  stranger,  who  greeted  him  with  a  hearty  and  respectful 
"  How  do  you  do,  sir  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  thought  Jacob,  "  I  am  not  so  very  differ 
ent  from  other  people,  if  I  only  thought  so  myself." 

At  noon,  he  stopped  at  a  farm-house  by  the  roadside 
to  get  a  drink  of  water.  A  pleasant  woman,  who  came 
from  the  door  at  that  moment  with  a  pitcher,  allowed  him 
to  lower  the  bucket  and  haul  it  up  dripping  with  precious 
coolness.  She  looked  upon  him  with  good-will,  for  he 
had  allowed  her  to  see  his  eyes,  and  something  in  their 
honest,  appealing  expression  went  to  her  heart. 

"  We're  going  to  have  dinner  in  five  minutes,"  said 
she  ;  "  won't  you  stay  and  have  something  ?  " 

Jacob  stayed  and  brake  bread  with  the  plain,  hospit 
able  family.  Their  kindly  attention  to  him  during  the 
meal  gave  him  the  lacking  nerve  ;  for  a  moment  he  re 
solved  to  offer  his  services  to  the  farmer,  but  he  presently 
saw  that  they  were  not  really  needed,  and,  besides,  the 
place  was  still  too  near  home. 
6 


122  TALES    OF    HOME. 

Towards  night  he  reached  an  old  country  tavern,  lord 
ing  it  over  an  incipient  village  of  six  houses.  The  land 
lord  and  hostler  were  inspecting  a  drooping-looking  horse 
in  front  of  the  stables.  Now,  if  there  was  any  thing 
which  Jacob  understood,  to  the  extent  of  his  limited  ex 
perience,  it  was  horse  nature.  He  drew  near,  listened  to 
the  views  of  the  two  men,  examined  the  animal  with  his 
eyes,  and  was  ready  to  answer,  "  Yes,  I  guess  so,"  when 
the  landlord  said,  "  Perhaps,  sir,  you  can  tell  what  is  the 
matter  with  him." 

His  prompt  detection  of  the  ailment,  and  prescription 
of  a  remedy  which  in  an  hour  showed  its  good  effects,  in 
stalled  him  in  the  landlord's  best  graces.  The  latter 
said,  "  Well,  it  shall  cost  you  nothing  to-night,"  as  he  led 
the  way  to  the  supper-room.  When  Jacob  went  to  bed 
he  was  surprised  on  reflecting  that  he  had  not  only  been 
talking  for  a  full  hour  in  the  bar-room,  but  had  been 
looking  people  in  the  face. 

Resisting  an  offer  of  good  wages  if  he  would  stay  and 
help  look  after  the  stables,  he  set  forward  the  next  morn 
ing  with  a  new  and  most  delightful  confidence  in  himself. 
The  knowledge  that  now  nobody  knew  him  as  "Jake  Flint " 
quite  removed  his  tortured  self-consciousness.  When  he 
met  a  person  who  was  glum  and  ungracious  of  speech,  he 
saw,  nevertheless,  that  he  was  not  its  special  object.  He 
was  sometimes  asked  questions,  to  be  sure,  which  a  little 
embarrassed  him,  but  he  soon  hit  upon  answers  which 
were  sufficiently  true  without  betraying  his  purpose. 

Wandering  sometimes   to  the    right    and  sometimes 


JACOB  FLINT'S  JOURNEY.  123 

to  the  left,  he  slowly  made  his  way  into  the  land,  until,  on 
the  afternoon  of  the  fourth  day  after  leaving  home,  he 
found  himself  in  a  rougher  region — a  rocky,  hilly  tract, 
with  small  and  not  very  flourishing  farms  in  the  valleys. 
Here  the  season  appeared  to  be  more  backward  than  in 
the  open  country ;  the  hay  harvest  was  not  yet  over. 

Jacob's  taste  for  scenery  was  not  particularly  culti 
vated,  but  something  in  the  loneliness  and  quiet  of  the 
farms  reminded  him  of  his  own  home ;  and  he  looked  at 
one  house  after  another,  deliberating  with  himself  whether 
it  would  not  be  a  good  place  to  spend  the  remainder  of 
his  month  of  probation.  He  seemed  to  be  very  far  from 
home — about  forty  miles,  in  fact, — and  was  beginning  to 
feel  a  little  tired  of  wandering. 

Finally  the  road  climbed  a  low  pass  of  the  hills,  and 
dropped  into  a  valley  on  the  opposite  side.  There  was 
but  one  house  in  view — a  two-story  building  of  logs  and 
plaster,  with  a  garden  and  orchard  on  the  hillside  in  the 
rear.  A  large  meadow  stretched  in  front,  and  when  the 
whole  of  it  lay  clear  before  him,,  as  the  road  issued  from 
a  wood,  his  eye  was  caught  by  an  unusual  harvest  picture. 

Directly  before  him,  a  woman,  whose  face  was  con 
cealed  by  a  huge,  flapping  sun-bonnet,  was  seated  upon  a 
mowing  machine,  guiding  a  span  of  horses  around  the 
great  tract  of  thick  grass  which  was  still  uncut.  A  little 
distance  off,  a  boy  and  girl  were  raking  the  drier  swaths 
together,  and  a  hay-cart,  drawn  by  oxen  and  driven  by  a 
man,  was  just  entering  the  meadow  from  the  side  next  the 
barn. 


124  TALES    OF    HOME. 

Jacob  hung  his  bundle  upon  a  stake,  threw  his  coat 
and  waistcoat  over  the  rail,  and,  resting  his  chin  on  his 
shirted  arms,  leaned  on  the  fence,  and  watched  the  hay 
makers.  As  the  woman  came  down  the  nearer  side  she 
appeared  to  notice  him,  for  her  head  was  turned  from  time 
to  time  in  his  direction.  When  she  had  made  the  round, 
she  stopped  the  horses  at  the  corner,  sprang  lightly  from 
her  seat  and  called  to  the  man,  who,  leaving  his  team, 
met  her  half-way.  They  were  nearly  a  furlong  distant, 
but  Jacob  was  quite  sure  that  she  pointed  to  him,  and 
that  the  man  looked  in  the  same  direction.  Presently 
she  set  off  across  the  meadow,  directly  towards  him. 

When  within  a  few  paces  of  the  fence,  she  stopped, 
threw  back  the  flaps  of  her  sun-bonnet,  and  said,  "  Good 
day  to  you  !  " 

Jacob  was  so  amazed  to  see  a  bright,  fresh,  girlish 
face,  that  he  stared  at  her  with  all  his  eyes,  forgetting  to 
drop  his  head.  Indeed,  he  could  not  have  done  so,  for 
his  chin  was  propped  upon  the  top  rail  of  the  fence. 

"You  are  a  stranger,  I  see,"  she  added. 

"  Yes,  in  these  parts,"  he  replied. 

"  Looking  for  work  ?  " 

He  hardly  knew  what  answer  to  make,  so  he  said,  at  a 
venture,  "That's  as  it  happens."  Then  he  colored  a 
little,  for  the  words  seemed  foolish  to  his  ears. 

"  Time's  precious,"  said  the  girl,  "  so  I'll  tell  you  at 
once  we  want  help.  Our  hay  must  be  got  in  while  the 
fine  weather  lasts." 

"  I'll  help  you !  "  Jacob  e'xclaimed,  taking  his  arms 
from  the  rail,  and  looking  as  willing  as  he  felt. 


JACOB  FLINT'S  JOURNEY.  125 

"  I'm  so  glad  !  But  I  must  tell  you,  at  first,  that  we're 
not  rich,  and  the  hands  are  asking  a  great  deal  now. 
How  much  do  you  expect  ?  " 

"  Whatever  you  please  ?  "  said  he,  climbing  the  fence. 

"  No,  that's  not  our  way  of  doing  business.  What  do 
you  say  to  a  dollar  a  day,  and  found  ? " 

"  All  right !  "  and  with  the  words  he  was  already  at 
her  side,  taking  long  strides  over  the  elastic  turf. 

"  I  will  go  on  with  my  mowing,"  said  she,  when  they 
reached  the  horses,  "  and  you  can  rake  and  load  with  my 
father.  WThat  name  shall  I  call  you  by  ?  " 

"  Everybody  calls  me  Jake." 

"  '  Jake  ! '  Jacob  is  better.  Well,  Jacob,  I  hope  you'll 
give  us  all  the  help  you  can." 

With  a  nod  and  a  light  laugh  she  sprang  upon  the 
machine.  There  was  a  sweet  throb  in  Jacob's  heart, 
which,  if  he  could  have  expressed  it,  would  have  been  a 
triumphant  shout  of  "  I'm  not  afraid  of  her  !  I'm  not 
afraid  of  her  !  " 

The  farmer  was  a  kindly,  depressed  man,  with  whose 
quiet  ways  Jacob  instantly  felt  himself  at  home.  They 
worked  steadily  until  sunset,  when  the  girl,  detaching  her 
horses  from  the  machine,  mounted  one  of  them  and  led 
the  other  to  the  barn.  At  the  supper-table,  the  farmer's 
wife  said  :  "  Susan,  you  must  be  very  tired." 

"  Not  now,  mother  !  "  she  cheerily  answered.  "  I  was, 
I  think,  but  after  I  picked  up  Jacob  I  felt  sure  we  should 
get  our  hay  in." 

"  It  was  a  good  thing,"  said  the  farmer  ;  "  Jacob  don't 
need  to  be  told  how  to  work." 


120  TALES    OF    HOME. 

Poor  Jacob  !  He  was  so  happy  he  could  have  cried. 
He  sat  and  listened,  and  blushed  a  little,  with  a  smile  on 
his  face  which  it  was  a  pleasure  to  see.  The  honest  peo 
ple  did  not  seem  to  regard  him  in  the  least  as  a  stranger ; 
they  discussed  their  family  interests  and  troubles  and 
hopes  before  him,  and  in  a  little  while  it  seemed  as  if  he 
had  known  them  always. 

How  faithfully  he  worked !  How  glad  and  tired  he 
felt  when  night  came,  and  the  hay-mow  was  filled,  and  the 
great  stacks  grew  beside  the  barn  !  But  ah  !  the  haying 
came  to  an  end,  and  on  the  last  evening,  at  supper, 
everybody  was  constrained  and  silent.  Even  Susan  looked 
grave  and  thoughtful. 

"Jacob,"  said  the  farmer,  finally,  "I  wish  we  could 
keep  you  until  wheat  harvest ;  but  you  know  we  are  poor, 
and  can't  afford  it.  Perhaps  you  could — 

He  hesitated;  but  Jacob,  catching  at  the  chance  and 
obeying  his  own  unselfish  impulse,  cried :  "  Oh,  yes,  I 
can ;  I'll  be  satisfied  with  my  board,  till  the  wheat's 
ripe." 

Susan  looked  at  him  quickly,  with  a  bright,  speaking 
face. 

"  It's  hardly  fair  to  you,"  said  the  farmer. 

"  But  I  like  to  be  here  so  much  !  "  Jacob  cried.  "  I 
like — all  of  you !  " 

"  We  do  seem  to  suit,"  said  the  farmer,  "  like  as  one 
family.  And  that  reminds  me,  we've  not  heard  your  fam 
ily  name  yet." 

"  Flint." 


JACOB  FLINT'S  JOURNEY.  127 

"Jacob  Flint!"  exclaimed  the  farmer's  wife,  with  sud 
den  agitation. 

Jacob  was  scared  and  troubled.  They  had  heard  of 
him,  he  thought,  and  who  knew  what  ridiculous  stories? 
Susan  noticed  an  anxiety  on  his  face  which  she  could  not 
understand,  but  she  unknowingly  came  to  his  relief. 

"  Why,  mother,"  she  asked,  "  do  you  know  Jacob's 
family?" 

"  No,  I  think  not,"  said  her  mother,  "  only  somebody 
of  the  name,  long  ago." 

His  offer,  however,  was  gratefully  accepted.  The 
bright,  hot  summer  days  came  and  went,  but  no  flower  of 
July  ever  opened  as  rapidly  and  richly  and  warmly  as  his 
chilled,  retarded  nature.  New  thoughts  and  instincts 
came  with  every  morning's  sun,  and  new  conclusions  were 
reached  with  every  evening's  twilight.  Yet  as  the  wheat 
harvest  drew  towards  the  end,  he  felt  that  he  must  leave 
the  place.  The  month  of  absence  had  gone  by,  he  scarce 
knew  how.  He  was  free  to  return  home,  and,  though  -he 
might  offer  to  bridge  over  the  gap  between  wheat  and 
oats,  as  he  had  already  done  between  hay  and  wheat,  he 
imagined  the  family  might  hesitate  to  accept  such  an  offer. 
Moreover,  this  life  at  Susan's  side  was  fast  growing  to  be 
a  pain,  unless  he  could  assure  himself  that  it  would  be 
so  forever. 

They  were  in  the  wheat-field,  busy  with  the  last 
sheaves,  she  raking  and  he  binding.  The  farmer  and 
younger  children  had  gone  to  the  barn  with  a  load. 
Jacob  was  working  silently  and  steadily,  but  when  they 


128  TALES    OF    HOME. 

had  reached  the  end  of  a  row,  he  stopped,  wiped  his  wet 
brow,  and  suddenly  said,  "  Susan,  I  suppose  to-day  fin 
ishes  my  work  here." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  very  slowly. 

"  And  yet  I'm  very  sorry  to  go." 

"  I — we  don't  want  you  to  go,  if  we  could  help  it." 

Jacob  appeared  to  struggle  with  himself.  He  attempt 
ed  to  speak.  "  If  I  could — "  he  brought  out,  and  then 
paused.  "  Susan,  would  you  be  glad  if  I  came 
back  ? " 

His  eyes  implored  her  to  read  his  meaning.  No  doubt 
she  read  it  correctly,  for  her  face  flushed,  her  eyelids  fell, 
and  she  barely  murmured,  "Yes,  Jacob." 

"Then  I'll  come!"  he  cried;  "I'll  come  and  help 
you  with  the  oats.  Don't  talk  of  pay  !  Only  tell  me  I'll 
be  welcome !  Susan,  don't  you  believe  I'll  keep  my 
word  ? " 

"  I  do  indeed,"  said  she,  looking  him  firmly  in  the 
face. 

That  was  all  that  was  said  at  the  time  ;  but  the  two 
understood  each  other  tolerably  well. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day,  Jacob  saw  again 
the  lonely  house  of  his  father.  His  journey  was  made, 
yet,  if  any  of  the  neighbors  had  seen  him,  they  would 
never  have  believed  that  he  had  come  back  rich. 

Samuel  Flint  turned  away  to  hide  a  peculiar  smile 
when  he  saw  his  son  ;  but  little  was  said  until  late  that 
evening,  after  Harry  and  Sally  had  left.  Then  he  requir 
ed  and  received  an  exact  account  of  Jacob's  experience 


JACOB  FLINT'S  JOURNEY.  129 

during  his  absence.     After  hearing  the  story  to  the  end, 
he  said,  "  And  so  you  love  this  Susan  Meadows  ? " 

"  I'd — I'd  do  any  thing  to  be  with  her." 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  her  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  Jacob  uttered  the  word  so  emphatically  that 
it  rang  through  the  house. 

"Ah,  well !  "said  the  old  man,  lifting  his  eyes,  and  speak 
ing  in  the  air,  "  all  the  harm  may  be  mended  yet.  But  there 
must  be  another  test."  Then  he  was  silent  for  some  time. 

"  I  have  it !  "  he  finally  exclaimed.  "  Jacob,you  must 
go  back  for  the  oats  harvest.  You  must  ask  Susan  to  be 
your  wife,  and  ask  her  parents  to  let  you  have  her.  But, 
— pay  attention  to  my  words  ! — you  must  tell  her  that 
you  are  a  poor,  hired  man  on  this  place,  and  that  she  can 
be  engaged  as  housekeeper.  Don't  speak  of  me  as  your 
father,  but  as  the  owner  of  the  farm.  Bring  her  here  in 
that  belief,  and  let  me  see  how  honest  and  willing  she  is. 
I  can  easily  arrange  matters  with  Harry  and  Sally  while 
you  are  away ;  and  I'll  only  ask  you  to  keep  up  the  ap 
pearance  of  the  thing  for  a  month  or  so." 

"  But,  father,"— Jacob  began. 

"  Not  a  word  !  Are  you  not  willing  to  do  that  much 
for  the  sake  of  having  her  all  your  life,  and  this  farm  after 
me  ?  Suppose  it  is  covered  with  a  mortgage,  if  she  is  all 
you  say,  you  two  can  work  it  off.  Not  a  word  more  !  It 
is  no  lie,  after  all,  that  you  will  tell  her." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Jacob,  "  that  she  could  not  leave 
her  home  now.  She  is  too  useful  there,  and  the  family  is 
so  poor." 

6* 


130  TAl  ES    OF    HOME. 

"  Tell  them  that  both  your  wages,  for  the  first  year, 
shall  go  to  them.  It'll  be  my  business  to  rake  and  scrape 
the  money  together  somehow.  Say,  too,  that  the  house 
keeper's  place  can't  be  kept  for  her— must  be  filled  at 
once.  Push  matters  like  a  man,  if  you  mean  to  be  a  com 
plete  one,  and  bring  her  here,  if  she  carries  no  more  with 
her  than  the  clothes  on  her  back !  " 

During  the  following  days  Jacob  had  time  to  familiar 
ize  his  mind  with  this  startling  proposal.  He  knew  his 
father's  stubborn  will  too  well  to  suppose  that  it  could  be 
changed  ;  but  the  inevitable  soon  converted  itself  into  the 
possible  and  desirable.  The  sweet  face  of  Susan  as  she 
had  stood  before  him  in  the  wheat-field  was  continually 
present  to  his  eyes,  and  ere  long,  he  began  to  place  her, 
in  his  thoughts,  in  the  old  rooms  at  home,  in  the  garden, 
among  the  thickets  by  the  brook,  and  in  Ann  Pardon's 
pleasant  parlor.  Enough ;  his  father's  plan  became  his 
own  long  before  the  time  was  out. 

On  his  second  journey  everybody  seemed  to  be  an 
old  acquaintance  and  an  intimate  friend.  It  was  evening 
as  he  approached  the  Meadows  farm,  but  the  younger 
children  recognized  him  in  the  dusk,  and  their  cry  of, 
"  Oh,  here's  Jacob  ! "  brought  out  the  farmer  and  his 
wife  and  Susan,  with  the  heartiest  of  welcomes.  They 
had  all  mi-ssed  him,  they  said — even  the  horses  and  oxen 
had  looked  for  him,  and  they  were  wondering  how  they 
should  get  the  oats  harvested  without  him. 

Jacob  looked  at  Susan  as  the  farmer  said  this,  and 
her  eyes  seemed  to  answer,  "  I  said  nothing,  but  I  knew 


JACOB  FLINT'S  JOURNEY.  131 

you  would  come."  Then,  first,  he  felt  sufficient  courage 
for  the  task  before  him. 

He  rose  the  next  morning,  before  any  one  was  stirring, 
and  waited  until  she  should  come  down  stairs.  The  sun 
had  not  risen  when  she  appeared,  with  a  milk-pail  in  each 
hand,  walking  unsuspectingly  to  the  cow-yard.  He  way 
laid  her,  took  the  pails  in  his  hand  and  said  in  nervous 
haste,  "  Susan,  will  you  be  my  wife  ?  " 

She  stopped  as  if  she  had  received  a  sudden  blow ; 
then  a  shy,  sweet  consent  seemed  to  run  through  her  heart. 
"  O  Jacob  !  "  was  all  she  could  say. 

"  But  you  will,  Susan  ?  "  he  urged  ;  and  then  (neither 
of  them  exactly  knew  how  it  happened)  all  at  once  his 
arms  were  around  her,  and  they  had  kissed  each  other. 

"  Susan,"  he  said,  presently,  "  I  am  a  poor  man — only 
a  farm  hand,  and  must  work  for  my  living.  You  could 
look  for  a  better  husband." 

"  I  could  never  find  a  better  than  you,  Jacob." 

"  Would  you  work  with  me,  too,  at  the  same  place  ?  " 

"  You  know  I  am  not  afraid  of  work,"  she  answered, 
"  and  I  could  never  want  any  other  lot  than  yours." 

Then  he  told  her  the  story  which  his  father  had  prompt 
ed.  Her  face  grew  bright  and  happy  as  she  listened,  and 
he  saw  how  from  her  very  heart  she  accepted  the  humble 
fortune.  Only  the  thought  of  her  parents  threw  a  cloud 
over  the  new  and  astonishing  vision.  Jacob,  however, 
grew  bolder  as  he  saw  fulfilment  of  his  hope  so  near. 
They  took  the  pails  and  seated  themselves  beside  neigh 
bor  cows,  one  raising  objections  or  misgivings  which  the 


132  TALES    OF    HOME. 

other  manfully  combated.  Jacob's  earnestness  uncon 
sciously  ran  into  his  hands,  as  he  discovered  when  the  im 
patient  cow  began  to  snort  and  kick. 

The  harvesting  of  the  oats  was  not  commenced  that 
morning.  The  children  were  sent  away,  and  there  was  a 
council  of  four  persons  held  in  the  parlor.  The  result  of 
mutual  protestations  and  much  weeping  was,  that  the  far 
mer  and  his  wife  agreed  to  receive  Jacob  as  a  son-in-law ; 
the  offer  of  the  wages  was  four  times  refused  by  them,  and 
then  accepted  ;  and  the  chance  of  their  being  able  to  live 
and  labor  together  was  finally  decided  to  be  too  fortunate 
to  let  slip.  When  the  shock  and  surprise  was  over  all 
gradually  became  cheerful,  and,  as  the  matter  was  more 
calmly  discussed,  the  first  conjectured  difficulties  somehow 
resolved  themselves  into  trifles. 

It  was  the  simplest  and  quietest  wedding, — at  home, 
on  an  August  morning.  Farmer  Meadows  then  drove  the 
bridal  pair  half-way  on  their  journey,  to  the  old  country 
tavern,  where  a  fresh  conveyance  had  been  engaged  for 
them.  The  same  evening  they  reached  the  farm-house  in 
the  valley,  and  Jacob's  happy  mood  gave  place  to  an  anx 
ious  uncertainty  as  he  remembered  the  period  of  deception 
upon  which  Susan  was  entering.  He  keenly  watched  his 
father's  face  when  they  arrived,  and  was  a  little  relieved 
when  he  saw  that  his  wife  had  made  a  good  first  impres 
sion. 

"  So,  this  is  my  new  housekeeper,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  I  hope  you  will  suit  me  as  well  as  your  husband  does." 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  sir,"  said  she  ;  "  but  you  must  have 


JACOB    FLINTS    JOURNEY.  133 

patience  with  me  for  a  few  days,  until  I  know  your  ways 
and  wishes." 

"  Mr.  Flint,"  said  Sally,  "  shall  I  get  supper  ready  ?  " 

Susan  looked  up  in  astonishment  at  hearing  the  name. 

"  Yes,"  the  old  man  remarked,  "  we  both  have  the 
same  name.  The  fact  is,  Jacob  and  I  are  a  sort  of  rela 
tions." 

Jacob,  in  spite  of  his  new  happiness,  continued  ill  at 
ease,  although  he  could  not  help  seeing  how  his  father 
brightened  under  Susan's  genial  influence,  how  satisfied 
he  was  with  her  quick,  neat,  exact  ways  and  the  cheerful 
ness  with  which  she  fulfilled  her  duties.  At  the  end  of  a 
week,  the  old  man  counted  out  the  wages  agreed  upon  for 
both,  and  his  delight  culminated  at  the  frank  simplicity 
with  which  Susan  took  what  she  supposed  she  had  fairly 
earned. 

"  Jacob,"  he  whispered  when  she  had  left  the  room, 
"  keep  quiet  one  more  week,  and  then  I'll  let  her  know." 

He  had  scarcely  spoken,  when  Susan  burst  into  the 
room  again,  crying,  "  Jacob,  they  are  coming,  they  have 
come  !  " 

"  Who  ? " 

"  Father  and  mother  ;  and  we  didn't  expect  them,  you 
know,  for  a  week  yet." 

All  three  went  to  the  door  as  the  visitors  made  their 
appearance  on  the  veranda.  Two  of  the  party  stood  as 
if  thunderstruck,  and  two  exclamations  came  together  : 

"  Samuel  Flint  !  " 

"  Lucy  Wheeler  !  " 


134  TALES    OF    HOME. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  ;  then  the  farmer's  wife, 
with  a  visible  effort  to  compose  herself,  said,  "  Lucy  Mead 
ows,  now." 

The  tears  came  into  Samuel  Flint's  eyes.  "  Let  us 
shake  hands,  Lucy,"  he  said  :  "  my  son  has  married  your 
daughter." 

All  but  Jacob  were  freshly  startled  at  these  words. 
The  two  shook  hands,  and  then  Samuel,  turning  to  Su 
san's  father,  said  :  "  And  this  is  your  husband,  Lucy.  I 
am  glad  to  make  his  acquaintance." 

"  Your  father,  Jacob  !  "  Susan  cried  ;  "  what  does  it  all 
mean  ? " 

Jacob's  face  grew  red,  and  the  old  habit  of  hanging  his 
head  nearly  came  back  upon  him.  He  knew  not  what  to 
say,  and  looked  wistfully  at  his  father. 

"  Come  into  the  house  and  sit  down,"  said  the  latter. 
"  I  think  we  shall  all  feel  better  when  we  have  quietly  and 
comfortably  talked  the  matter  over." 

They  went  into  the  quaint,  old-fashioned  parlor,  which 
had  already  been  transformed  by  Susan's  care,  so  that 
much  of  its  shabbiness  was  hidden.  When  all  were  seated, 
and  Samuel  Flint  perceived  that  none  of  the  others  knew 
what  to  say,  he  took  a  resolution  which,  for  a  man  of  his 
mood  and  habit  of  life,  required  some  courage. 

"  Three  of  us  here  are  old  people,"  he  began,  "  and 
the  two  young  ones  love  each  other.  It  was  so  long  ago, 
Lucy,  that  it  cannot  be  laid  to  my  blame  if  I  speak  of  it 
now.  Your  husband,  I  see,  has  an  honest  heart,  and  will 
not  misunderstand  either  of  us.  The  same  thing  often 


JACOB  FLINT'S  JOURNEY.  135 

turns  up  in  life  ;  it  is  one  of  those  secrets  that  everybody 
knows,  and  that  everybody  talks  about  except  the  persons 
concerned.  When  I  was  a  young  man,  Lucy,  I  loved  you 
truly,  and  I  faithfully  meant  to  make  you  my  wife." 

"  I  thought  so  too,  for  a  while,"  said  she,  very  calmly. 

Farmer  Meadows  looked  at  his  wife,  and  no  face  was 
ever  more  beautiful  than  his,  with  that  expression  of  gen 
erous  pity  shining  through  it. 

"  You  know  how  I  acted,"  Samuel  Flint  continued, 
"  but  our  children  must  also  know  that  I  broke  off  from 
you  without  giving  any  reason.  A  woman  came  between 
us  and  made  all  the  mischief.  I  was  considered  rich  then, 
and  she  wanted  to  secure  my  money  for  her  daughter.  I 
was  an  innocent  and  unsuspecting  young  man,  who  be 
lieved  that  everybody  else  was  as  good  as  myself;  and 
the  woman  never  rested  until  she  had  turned  me  from  my 
first  love,  and  fastened  me  for  life  to  another.  Little  by 
little  I  discovered  the  truth  ;  I  kept  the  knowledge  of  the 
injury  to  myself;  I  quickly  got  rid  of  the  money  which 
had  so  cursed  me,  and  brought  my  wife  to  this,  the  lone 
liest  and  dreariest  place  in  the  neighborhood,  where  I 
forced  upon  her  a  life  of  poverty.  I  thought  it  was  a  just 
revenge,  but  I  was  unjust.  She  really  loved  me  :  she  was, 
if  not  quite  without  blame  in  the  matter,  ignorant  of  the 
worst  that  had  been  done  (I  learned  all  that  too  late),  and 
she  never  complained,  though  the  change  in  me  slowly 
wore  out  her  life.  I  know  now  that  I  was  cruel ;  but  at 
the  same  time  I  punished  myself,  and  was  innocently  pun 
ishing  my  son.  But  to  him  there  was  one  way  to  make 


136  TALES    OF    HOME. 

amends.  *  I  will  help  him  to  a  wife,'  I  said,  '  who  will 
gladly  take  poverty  with  him  and  for  his  sake.'  I  forced 
him,  against  his  will,  to  say  that  he  was  a  hired  hand  on 
this  place,  and  that  Susan  must  be  content  to  be  a  hired 
housekeeper.  Now  that  I  know  Susan,  I  see  that  this 
proof  might  have  been  left  out ;  but  I  guess  it  has  done 
no  harm.  The  place  is  not  so  heavily  mortgaged  as  peo 
ple  think,  and  it  will  be  Jacob's  after  I  am  gone.  And 
now  forgive  me,  all  of  you, — Lucy  first,  for  she  has  most 
cause  ;  Jacob  next ;  and  Susan, — that  will  be  easier  ;  and 
you,  Friend  Meadows,  if  what  I  have  said  has  been  hard 
for  you  to  hear." 

The  farmer  stood  up  like  a  man,  took  Samuel's  hand 
and  his  wife's,  and  said,  in  a  broken  voice  :  "  Lucy,  I  ask 
you,  too,  to  forgive  him,  and  I  ask  you  both  to  be  good 
friends  to  each  other." 

Susan,  dissolved  in  tears,  kissed  all  of  them  in  turn  ; 
but  the  happiest  heart  there  was  Jacob's. 

It  was  now  easy  for  him  to  confide  to  his  wife  the 
complete  story  of  his  troubles,  and  to  find  his  growing 
self-reliance  strengthened  by  her  quick,  intelligent  sympa 
thy.  The  Pardons  were  better  friends  than  ever,  and  the 
fact,  which  at  first  created  great  astonishment  in  the 
neighborhood,  that  Jacob  Flint  had  really  gone  upon  a 
journey  and  brought  home  a  handsome  wife,  began  to 
change  the  attitude  of  the  people  towards  him.  The  old 
place  was  no  longer  so  lonely  ;  the  nearest  neighbors  be 
gan  to  drop  in  and  insist  on  return  visits.  Now  that  Ja 
cob  kept  his  head  up,  and  they  got  a  fair  view  of  his  face, 


JACOB    FLINTS    JOURNEY.  137 

they  discovered  that  he  was  not  lacking,  after  all,  in  sense 
or  social  qualities. 

In  October,  the  Whitney  place,  which  had  been  leased 
for  several  years,  was  advertised  to  be  sold  at  public  sale. 
The  owner  had  gone  to  the  city  and  become  a  successful 
merchant,  had  outlived  his  local  attachments,  and  now 
took  advantage  of  a  rise  in  real  estate  to  disburden  him 
self  of  a  property  which  he  could  not  profitably  control. 

Everybody  from  far  and  wide  attended  the  sale,  and, 
when  Jacob  Flint  and  his  father  arrived,  everybody  said 
to  the  former  :  "  Of  course  you've  come  to  buy,  Jacob." 
But  each  man  laughed  at  his  own  smartness,  and  consid 
ered  the  remark  original  with  himself. 

Jacob  was  no  longer  annoyed.  He  laughed,  too,  and 
answered  :  "  I'm  afraid  I  can't  do  that ;  but  I've  kept  half 
my  word,  which  is  more  than  most  men  do." 

"  Jake's  no  fool,  after  all,"  was  whispered  behind  him. 

The  bidding  commenced,  at  first  very  spirited,  and 
then  gradually  slacking  off,  as  the  price  mounted  above 
the  means  of  the  neighboring  farmers.  The  chief  aspi 
rant  was  a  stranger,  a  well-dressed  man  with  a  lawyer's 
air,  whom  nobody  knew.  After  the  usual  long  pauses 
and  passionate  exhortations,  the  hammer  fell,  and  the  auc 
tioneer,  turning  to  the  stranger,  asked,  "What  name? " 

"  Jacob  Flint !  " 

There  was  a  general  cry  of  surprise.  All  looked  at 
Jacob,  whose  eyes  and  mouth  showed  that  he  was  as 
dumbfoundered  as  the  rest. 

The  stranger  walked  coolly  through  the  midst  of  the 


138  TALES    OF    HOME. 

crowd  to  Samuel  Flint,  and  said,  "  When  shall  I  have  the 
papers  drawn  up  ? " 

"  As  soon  as  you  can,"  the  old  man  replied  ;  then  seiz 
ing  Jacob  by  the  arm,  with  the  words,  "  Let's  go  home 
now  !  "  he  hurried  him  on. 

The  explanation  soon  leaked  out.  Samuel  Flint  had 
not  thrown  away  his  wealth,  but  had  put  it  out  of  his  own 
hands.  It  was  given  privately  to  trustees,  to  be  held  for 
his  son,  and  returned  when  the  latter  should  have  married 
with  his  father's  consent.  There  was  more  than  enough 
to  buy  the  Whitney  place. 

Jacob  and  Susan  are  happy  in  their  stately  home,  and 
good  as  they  are  happy.  If  any  person  in  the  neighbor 
hood  ever  makes  use  of  the  phrase  "  Jacob  Flint's  Jour 
ney,"  he  intends  thereby  to  symbolize  the  good  fortune 
which  sometimes  follows  honesty,  reticence,  and  shrewd 
ness. 


CAN  A  LIFE  HIDE  ITSELF? 

^_  HAD  been  reading,  as  is   my   wont  from 

"  time  to  time,  one  of  the  many  volumes  of 
"  The  New  Pitaval,"  that  singular  record 
of  human  crime  and  human  cunning,  and 
also  of  the  inevitable'  fatality  which,  in  ev 
ery  case,  leaves  a  gate  open  for  detection. 
Were  it  not  for  the  latter  fact,  indeed,  one  would  turn 
with  loathing  from  such  endless  chronicles  of  wickedness. 
Yet  these  may  be  safely  contemplated,  when  one  has  dis 
covered  the  incredible  fatuity  of  crime,  the  certain  weak 
mesh  in  a  network  of  devilish  texture ;  or  is  it  rather  the 
agency  of  a  power  outside  of  man,  a  subtile  protecting 
principle,  which  allows  the  operation  of  the  evil  element 
only  that  the  latter  may  finally  betray  itself?  Whatever 
explanation  we  may  choose,  the  fact  is  there,  like  a  tonic 
medicine  distilled  from  poisonous  plants,  to  brace  our  faith 
in  the  ascendancy  of  Good  in  the  government  of  the  world. 
Laying  aside  the  book,  I  fell  into  a  speculation  con 
cerning  the  mixture  of  the  two  elements  in  man's  nature. 
The  life  of  an  individual  is  usually,  it  seemed  lo  me,  a 


140  TALES    OF    HOME. 

series  of  results,  the  processes  leading  to  which  are  not 
often  visible,  or  observed  when  they  are  so.  Each  act  is 
the  precipitation  of  a  number  of  mixed  influences,  more 
or  less  unconsciously  felt ;  the  qualities  of  good  and  evil 
are  so  blended  therein  that  they  defy  the  keenest  moral 
analysis ;  and  how  shall  we,  then,  pretend  to  judge  of 
any  one  ?  Perhaps  the  surest  indication  of  evil  (I  further 
reflected)  is  that  it  always  tries  to  conceal  itself,  and  the 
strongest  incitement  to  good  is  that  evil  cannot  be  con 
cealed.  The  crime,  or  the  vice,  or  even  the  self-acknowl 
edged  weakness,  becomes  apart  of  the  individual  conscious 
ness  ;  it  cannot  be  forgotten  or  outgrown.  It  follows  a 
life  through  all  experiences  and  to  the  uttermost  ends  of 
the  earth,  pressing  towards  the  light  with  a  terrible,  demo 
niac  power.  There  are  noteless  lives,  of  course — lives 
that  accept  obscurity,  mechanically  run  their  narrow  round 
of  circumstance,  and  are  lost ;  but  when  a  life  endeavors 
to  lose  itself, — to  hide  some  conscious  guilt  or  failure, — 
can  it  succeed  ?  Is  it  .not  thereby  lifted  above  the  level 
of  common  experience,  compelling  attention  to  itself  by 
the  very  endeavor  to  escape  it  ? 

I  turned  these  questions  over  in  my  mind,  without  ap 
proaching,  or  indeed  expecting,  any  solution, — since  I 
knew,  from  habit,  the  labyrinths  into  which  they  would 
certainly  lead  me, — when  a  visitor  was  announced.  It 
was  one  of  the  directors  of  our  county  almshouse,  who 
came  on  an  errand  to  which  he  attached  no  great  impor 
tance.  -"I  owed  the  visit,  apparently,  to  the  circumstance 
fchat  my  home  lay  in  his  way,  and  he  could  at  once  relieve 


CAN    A    LIFE    HIDE    ITSELF?  141 

his  conscience  of  a  very  trifling  pressure  and  his  pocket 
of  a  small  package,  by  calling  upon  me.  His  story  was 
told  in  a  few  words ;  the  package  was  placed  upon  my 
table,  and  I  was  again  left  to  my  meditations. 

Two  or  three  days  before,  a  man  who  had  the  appear 
ance  of  a  "  tramp"  had  been  observed  by  the  people  of  a 
small  village  in  the  neighborhood.  He  stopped  and  looked 
at  the  houses  in  a  vacant  way,  walked  back  and  forth 
once  or  twice  as  if  uncertain  which  of  the  cross-roads  to 
take,  and  presently  went  on  without  begging  or  even  speak 
ing  to  any  one.  Towards  sunset  a  farmer,  on  his  way  to 
the  village  store,  found  him  sitting  at  the  roadside,  his 
head  resting  against  a  fence-post.  The  man's  face  was 
so  worn  and  exhausted  that  the  farmer  kindly  stopped 
and  addressed  him ;  but  he  gave  no  other  reply  than  a 
shake  of  the  head. 

The  farmer  thereupon  lifted  him  into  his  light  country- 
wagon,  the  man  offering  no  resistance,  and  drove  to  the 
tavern,  where,  his  exhaustion  being  so  evident,  a  glass  of 
whiskey  was  administered  to  him.  He  afterwards  spoke 
a  few  words  in  German,  which  no  one  understood.  At 
the  almshouse,  to  which  he  was  transported  the  same 
evening,  he  refused  to  answer  the  customary  questions, 
although  he  appeared  to  understand  them.  The  physician 
was  obliged  to  use  a  slight  degree  of  force  in  administer 
ing  nourishment  and  medicine,  but  neither  was  of  any 
avail.  The  man  died  within  twenty-four  hours  after  be 
ing  received.  His  pockets  were  empty,  but  two  small 
leathern  wallets  were  found  under  his  pillow ;  and  these 


142  TALES    OF    HOME. 

formed  the  package  which  the  director  left  in  my  charge. 
They  were  full  of  papers  in  a  foreign  language,  he  said, 
and  he  supposed  I  might  be  able  to  ascertain  the  stran 
ger's  name  and  home  from  them. 

I  took  up  the  wallets,  which  were  worn  and  greasy 
from  long  service,  opened  them,  and  saw  that  they  were 
filled  with  scraps,  fragments,  and  folded  pieces  of  paper, 
nearly  every  one  of  which  had  been  carried  for  a  long 
time  loose  in  the  pocket.  Some  were  written  in  pen  and 
ink,  and  some  in  pencil,  but  all  were  equally  brown,  worn, 
and  unsavory  in  appearance.  In  turning  them  over,  how 
ever,  my  eye  was  caught  by  some  slips  in  the  Russian 
character,  and  three  or  four  notes  in  French ;  the  rest 
were  German.  I  laid  aside  "  Pitaval"  at  once,  emptied 
all  the  leathern  pockets  carefully,  and  set  about  examin 
ing  the  pile  of  material. 

I  first  ran  rapidly  through  the  papers  to  ascertain  the 
dead  man's  name,  but  it  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  There 
were  half  a  dozen  letters,  written  on  sheets  folded  and 
addressed  in  the  fashion  which  prevailed  before  envelopes 
were  invented ;  but  the  name  was  cut  out  of  the  address 
in  every  case.  There  was  an  official  permit  to  embark 
on  board  a  Bremen  steamer,  mutilated  in  the  same  way  ; 
there  was  a  card  photograph,  from  which  the  face  had 
been  scratched  by  a  penknife.  There  were  Latin  senten 
ces  ;  accounts  of  expenses  ;  a  list  of  New  York  addresses, 
covering  eight  pages ;  and  a  number  of  notes,  written 
either  in  Warsaw  or  Breslau.  A  more  incongruous  collec 
tion  I  never  saw,  and  I  am  sure  that  had  it  not  been  for 


CAN    A    LIFE    HIDE    ITSELF?  143 

the  train  of  thought  I  was  pursuing  when  the  director 
called  upon  me,  I  should  have  returned  the  papers  to  him 
without  troubling  my  head  with  any  attempt  to  unravel 
the  man's  story. 

The  evidence,  however,  that  he  had  endeavored  to 
hide  his  life,  had  been  revealed  by  my  first  superficial  ex 
amination  ;  and  here,  I  reflected,  was  a  singular  opportu 
nity  to  test  both  his  degree  of  success  and  my  own  power 
of  constructing  a  coherent  history  out  of  the  detached 
fragments.  Unpromising  as  is  the  matter,  said  I,  let  me 
see  whether  he  can  conceal  his  secret  from  even  such  un 
practised  eyes  as  mine. 

I  went  through  the  papers  again,  read  each  one  rapid 
ly,  and  arranged  them  in  separate  files,  according  to  the 
character  of  their  contents.  Then  I  rearranged  these 
latter  in  the  order  of  time,  so  far  as  it  was  indicated ;  and 
afterwards  commenced  the  work  of  picking  out  and  thread 
ing  together  whatever  facts  might  be  noted.  The  first 
thing  I  ascertained,  or  rather  conjectured,  was  that  the 
man's  life  might  be  divided  into  three  very  distinct 
phases,  the  first  ending  in  Breslau,  the  second  in  Poland, 
and  the  third  and  final  one  in  America.  Thereupon  I 
once  again  rearranged  the  material,  and  attacked  that 
which  related  to  the  first  phase. 

It  consisted  of  the  following  papers  :  Three  letters,  in 
a  female  hand,  commencing  "  My  dear  brother,"  and  ter 
minating  with  "Thy  loving  sister,  Elise;"  part  of  a  diplo 
ma  from  a  gymnasium,  or  high  school,  certifying  that 
[here  the  name  was  cut  out]  had  successfully  passed  his 


144  TALES    OF    HOME. 

examination,  and  was  competent  to  teach, — and  here 
again,  whether  by  accident  or  design,  the  paper  was  torn 
off;  a  note,  apparently  to  a  jeweller,  ordering  a  certain 
gold  ring  to  be  delivered  to  "Otto,"  and  signed  "  B.  v. 
H. ; "  a  receipt  from  the  package-post  for  a  box  forwarded 
to  Warsaw,  to  the  address  of  Count  Ladislas  Kasincsky ; 
and  finally  a  washing-list,  at  the  bottom  of  which  was 
written,  in  pencil,  in  a  trembling  hand :  "  May  God  pro 
tect  thee  !  But  do  not  stay  away  so  very  long." 

In  the  second  collection,  relating  to  Poland,  I  found 
the  following  :  Six  orders  in  Russian  and  three  in  French, 
requesting  somebody  to  send  by  "Jean"  sums  of  money, 
varying  from  two  to  eight  hundred  rubles.  These  orders 
were  in  the  same  hand,  and  all  signed  "  Y."  A  charming 
letter  in  French,  addressed  " cher  ami"  and  declining,  in 
the  most  delicate  and  tender  way,  an  offer  of  marriage 
made  to  the  sister  of  the  writer,  of  whose  signature  only 
"Amelie  de"  remained,  the  family  name  having  been 
torn  off.  A  few  memoranda  of  expenses,  one  of  which 
was  curious  :  "  Dinner  with  Jean,  58  rubles  ; "  and  imme 
diately  after  it :  "  Doctor,  10  rubles."  There  were,  more 
over,  a  leaf  torn  out  of  a  journal,  and  half  of  a  note  which 
had  been  torn  down  the  middle,  both  implicating  "  Jean  " 
in  some  way  with  the  fortunes  of  the  dead  man. 

The  papers  belonging  to  the  American  phase,  so  far 
as  they  were  to  be  identified  by  dates,  or  by  some  inter 
nal  evidence,  were  fewer,  but  even  more  enigmatical  in 
character.  The  principal  one  was  a  list  of  addresses  in 
New  York,  divided  into  sections,  the  street  boundaries  of 


CAN    A    LIFE    HIDE    ITSELF?  145 

which  were  given.  There  were  no  names,  but  some  of  the 
addresses  were  marked  +,  and  others  ?,  and  a  few  had 
been  crossed  out  with  a  pencil.  Then  there  were  some 
leaves  of  a  journal  of  diet  and  bodily  symptoms,  of  a  very 
singular  character ;  three  fragments  of  drafts  of  letters,  in 
pencil,  one  of  them  commencing,  "  Dog  and  villain  !  "  and 
a  single  note  of  "Began  work,  September  loth,  1865." 
This  was  about  a  year  before  his  death. 

The  date  of  the  diploma  given  by  the  gymnasium  at 
Breslau  was  June  27,  1855,  and  the  first  date  in  Poland 
was  May  3,  1861.  Belonging  to  the  time  between  these 
two  periods  there  were  only  the  order  for  the  ring  (1858), 
and  a  little  memorandum  in  pencil,  dated  "  Posen,  Dec., 
1859."  The  last  date  in  Poland  was  March  18,  1863,  and 
the  permit  to  embark  at  Bremen  was  dated  in  October  of 
that  year.  Here,  at  least,  was  a  slight  chronological 
framework.  The  physician  who  attended  the  county 
almshonse  had  estimated  the  man's  age  at  thirty,  which, 
supposing  him  to  have  been  nineteen  at  the  time  of 
receiving  the  diploma,  confirmed  the  dates  to  that  ex 
tent. 

I  assumed,  at  the  start,  that  the  name  which  had  been 
so  carefully  cut  out  of  all  the  documents  was  the  man's 
own.  The  "  Elise  "  of  the  letters  was  therefore  his  sister. 
The  first  two  letters  related  merely  to  "  mother's  health," 
and  similar  details,  from  which  it  was  impossible  to  ex 
tract  any  thing,  except  that  the  sister  was  in  some  kind  of 
service.  The  second  letter  closed  with  :  "  I  have  enough 
work  to  do,  but  I  keep  well.  Forget  thy  disappointment 
7 


146  TALES    OF    HOME. 

so  far  as  /am  concerned,  for  I  never  expected  any  thing ; 
I  don't  know  why,  but  I  never  did." 

Here  was  a  disappointment,  at  least,  to  begin  with.  I 
made  a  note  of  it  opposite  the  date,  on  my  blank  pro 
gramme,  and  took  up  the  next  letter.  It  was  written  in 
November,  1861,  and  contained  a  passage  which  keenly 
excited  my  curiosity.  It  ran  thus  :  "  Do,  pray,  be  more 
careful  of  thy  money.  It  may  be  all  as  thou  sayest,  and 
inevitable,  but  I  dare  not  mention  the  thing  to  mother, 
and  five  thalers  is  all  I  can  spare  out  of  my  own  wages. 
As  for  thy  other  request,  I  have  granted  it,  as  thou  seest, 
but  it  makes  me  a  little  anxious.  What  is  the  joke? 
And  how  can  it  serve  thee  ?  That  is  what  I  do  not 
understand,  and  I  have  plagued  myself  not  a  little  to 
guess." 

Among  the  Polish  memoranda  was  this  :  "  Sept.  i  to 
Dec.  i,  200  rubles,"  which  I  assumed  to  represent  a  sal 
ary.  This  would  give  him  eight  hundred  a  year,  at  least 
twelve  times  the  amount  which  his  sister — who  must 
either  have  been  cook  or  housekeeper,  since  she  spoke 
of  going  to  market  for  the  family — could  have  received. 
His  application  to  her  for  money,  and  the  manner  of  her 
reference  to  it,  indicated  some  imprudence  or  irregularity 
on  his  part.  What  the  "  other  request "  was,  I  could  not 
guess  ;  but  as  I  was  turning  and  twisting  the  worn  leaf  in 
some  perplexity,  I  made  a  sudden  discovery.  One  side 
of  the  bottom  edge  had  been  very  slightly  doubled  ovei 
in  folding,  and  as  I  smoothed  it  out,  I  noticed  some  di 
minutive  letters  in  the  crease.  The  paper  had  been  worn 


CAN    A    LIFE    HIDE    ITSELF?  147 

nearly  through,  but  I  made  out  the  words:  "Write  very 
soon,  clear  Otto ! " 

This  was  the  name  in  the  order  for  the  gold  ring, 
signed  "  B.  v.  H." — a  link,  indeed,  but  a  fresh  puzzle. 
Knowing  the  stubborn  prejudices  of  caste  in  Germany, 
and  above  all  in  Eastern  Prussia  and  Silesia,  I  should 
have  been  compelled  to  accept  "  Otto,"  whose  sister  was 
in  service,  as  himself  the  servant  of  "  B.  v.  H.,"  but  for 
the  tenderly  respectful  letter  of  "Amelie  de ,"  declin 
ing  the  marriage  offer  for  her  sister.  I  re-read  this  letter 
very  carefully,  to  determine  whether  it  was  really  intended 
for  "  Otto."  It  ran  thus  : 

"  DEAR  FRIEND, — I  will  not  say  that  your  letter  was 
entirely  unexpected,  either  to  Helmine  or  myself.  I 
should,  perhaps,  have  less  faith  in  the  sincerity  of  your 
attachment  if  you  had  not  already  involuntarily  betrayed 
it.  When  I  say  that  although  I  detected  the  inclination 
of  your  heart  some  weeks  ago,  and  that  I  also  saw  it  was 
becoming  evident  to  my  sister,  yet  I  refrained  from  men 
tioning  the  subject  at  all  until  she  came  to  me  last  even 
ing  with  your  letter  in  her  hand, — when  I  say  this,  you 
will  understand  that  I  have  acted  towards  you  with  the 
respect  and  sympathy  which  I  profoundly  feel.  Helmine 
fully  shares  this  feeling,  and  her  poor  heart  is  too  pain 
fully  moved  to  allow  her  to  reply.  Do  I  not  say,  in  say 
ing  this,  what  her  reply  must  be  ?  But,  though  her  heart 
cannot  respond  to  your  love,  she  hopes  you  will  always 
believe  her  a  friend  to  whom  your  proffered  devotion  was 
an  honor,  and  will  be — if  you  will  subdue  it  to  her  de 
serts — a  grateful  thing  to  remember.  We  shall  remain  in 
Warsaw  a  fortnight  longer,  as  I  think  yourself  will  agree 


148  TALES     OF    HOME. 

that  it  is  better  we  should  not  immediately  return  to  the 
castle.  Jean,  who  must  carry  a  fresh  order  already,  will 
bring  you  this,  and  we  hope  to  have  good  news  of  Henri. 
I  send  back  the  papers,  which  were  unnecessary  ;  we 
never  doubted  you,  and  we  shall  of  course  keep  your  se 
cret  so  long  as  you  choose  to  wear  it. 

"AMELIE  DE " 

The  more  light  I  seemed  to  obtain,  the  more  inexpli 
cable  the  circumstances  became.  The  diploma  and  the 
note  of  salary  were  grounds  for  supposing  that  "  Otto  " 
occupied  the  position  of  tutor  in  a  noble  Polish  family. 
There  was  the  receipt  for  a  box  addressed  to  Count  Lad- 
islas  Kasincsky,  and  I  temporarily  added  his  family  name 
to  the  writer  of  the  French  letter,  assuming  her  to  be  his 
wife.  "  Jean  "  appeared  to  be  a  servant,  and  "  Henri  "  I 
set  down  as  the  son  whom  Otto  was  instructing  in  the  cas 
tle  or  family  seat  in  the  country,  while  the  parents  were 
in  Warsaw.  Plausible,  so  far ;  but  the  letter  was  not  such 
a  one  as  a  countess  would  have  written  to  her  son's  tutor, 
under  similar  circumstances.  It  was  addressed  to  a  social 
equal,  apparently  to  a  man  younger  than  herself,  and  for 
whom — supposing  him  to  have  been  a  tutor,  secretaiy,  or 
something  of  the  kind — she  must  have  felt  a  special  sym 
pathy.  Her  mention  of  "  the  papers  "  and  "  your  secret " 
must  refer  to  circumstances  which  would  explain  the  mys 
tery.  "  So  long  as  you  choose  to  wear  it,"  she  had  writ 
ten  :  then  it  was  certainly  a  secret  connected  with  his 
personal  history. 

Further,  it  appeared  that  "  Jean  "  was  sent  to  him  with 


CAN    A    LIFE    HIDE    ITSELF?  149 

"  an  order."  What  could  this  be,  but  one  of  the  nine  or 
ders  for  money  which  lay  before  my  eyes  ?  I  examined 
the  dates  of  the  latter,  and  lo  !  there  was  one  written 
upon  the  same  day  as  the  lady's  letter.  The  sums  drawn 
by  these  orders  amounted  in  all  to  four  thousand  two  hun 
dred  rubles.  But  how  should  a  tutor  or  secretary  be  in 
possession  of  his  employer's  money  ?  Still,  this  might  be 
accounted  for  ;  it  would  imply  great  trust  on  the  part  of 
the  latter,  but  no  more  than  one  man  frequently  reposes 
in  another.  Yet,  if  it  were  so,  one  of  the  memoranda 
confronted  me  with  a  conflicting  fact :  "  Dinner  with  Jean, 
58  rubles."  The  unusual  amount — nearly  fifty  dollars — 
indicated  an  act  of  the  most  reckless  dissipation,  and  in 
company  with  a  servant,  if  "  Jean,"  as  I  could  scarcely 
doubt,  acted  in  that  character.  I  finally  decided  to  as 
sume  both  these  conjectures  as  true,  and  apply  them  to  the 
remaining  testimony. 

I  first  took  up  the  leaf  which  had  been  torn  out  of  a 
small  journal  or  pocket  note-book,  as  was  manifested  by 
the  red  edge  on  three  sides.  It  was  scribbled  over  with 
brief  notes  in  pencil,  written  at  different  times.  Many  of 
them  were  merely  mnemonic  signs  ;  but  the  recurrence 
of  the  letters  J  and  Y  seemed  to  point  to  transactions  with 
"  Jean,"  and  the  drawer  of  the  various  sums  of  money. 
The  letter  Y  reminded  me  that  I  had  been  too  hasty  in 
giving  the  name  of  Kasincsky  to  the  noble  family  ;  in 
deed,  the  name  upon  the  post-office  receipt  might  have  no 
connection  with  the  matter  I  was  trying  to  investigate. 
Suddenly  I  noticed  a  *  Ky  "  among  the  mnemonic  signs, 


150  TALES    OF    HOME. 

and  the  suspicion  flashed  across  my  mind  that  Count  Ka- 
sincsky  had  signed  the  order  with  the  last  letter  of  his 
family  name  !  To  assume  this,  however,  suggested  a  secret 
reason  for  doing  so ;  and  I  began  to  think  that  I  had 
already  secrets  enough  on  hand. 

The  leaf  was  much  rubbed  and  worn,  and  it  was  not 
without  considerable  trouble  that  I  deciphered  the  follow 
ing  (omitting  the  unintelligible  signs)  : 

"Oct.  30  (Nov.  12)— talk  with  Y;  20— Jean.  Con 
sider. 

"  Nov.  15 — with  J — H — hope. 

"  Dec.  i— Told  the  C.  No  knowledge  of  S— there 
fore  safe.  Uncertain  of C.  to  Warsaw.  Met  J.  as 

agreed.  Further  and  further. 

"  Dec.  27 — All  for  naught !     All  for  naught ! 

"Jan.  19,  '63 — Sick.  What  is  to  be  the  end?  Threats. 
No  tidings  of  Y.  Walked  the  streets  all  day.  At  night 
as  usual. 

"  March  i— News.  The  C.  and  H.  left  yesterday.  No 
more  to  hope.  Let  it  come,  then  !  " 

These  broken  words  warmed  my  imagination  power 
fully.  Looking  at  them  in  the  light  of -my  conjecture,  I 
was  satisfied  that  "  Otto  "  was  involved  in  some  crime,  or 
dangerous  secret,  of  which  "Jean"  was  either  the  insti 
gator  or  the  accomplice.  "  Y.,"  or  Count  Kasincsky, — and 
I  was  more  than  ever  inclined  to  connect  the  two, — also 
had  his  mystery,  which  might,  or  might  not,  be  identical 
with  the  first.  By  comparing  dates,  I  found  that  the  en 
try  made  December  27  was  three  days  later  than  the  date 
of  the  letter  of  "  Amelie  de "  ;  and  the  exclamation 


CAN    A    LIFE    HIDE    ITSELF?  !$! 

"  All  for  naught  ! "  certainly  referred  to  the  disappoint 
ment  it  contained.  I  now  guessed  the  "  H."  in  the  sec 
ond  entry  to  mean  "  Helmine."  The  two  last  suggested 
a  removal  to  Warsaw  from  the  country.  Here  was  a  lit 
tle  more  ground  to  stand  on  ;  but  how  should  I  ever  get 
at  the  secret  ? 

I  took  up  the  torn  half  of  a  note,  which,  after  the  first 
inspection,  I  had  laid  aside  as  a  hopeless  puzzle.  A  closer 
examination  revealed  several  things  which  failed  to  impress 
me  at  the  outset.  It  was  written  in  a  strong  and  rather 
awkward  masculine  hand  ;  several  words  were  under 
scored,  two  misspelled,  and  I  felt — I  scarcely  knew  why — 
that  it  was  written  in  a  spirit  of  mingled  contempt  and 
defiance.  Let  me  give  the  fragment  just  as  it  lay  before 
me  : 


" ARON ! 


It  is  quite  time 
be  done.     Who  knows 
is  not  his  home  by  this 

concern  for  the 
that  they  are  well  off, 
sian  officers  are 

cide  at  once,  my 
risau,  or  I  must 
t  ten  days  delay 
money  can  be  divi- 
tier,  and  you  may 
ever  you  please, 
untess  goes,  and  she 
will  know  who  you 


152  TALES    OF    HOME. 

time,  unless  you  carry 
friend  or  not 
decide, 
ann  Helm." 

Here,  I  felt  sure,  was  the  clue  to  much  of  the  mystery. 
The  first  thing  that  struck  me  was  the  appearance  of  a  new 
name.  I  looked  at  it  again,  ran  through  in  my  mind  all  pos 
sible  German  names,  and  found  that  it  could  only  be  "  Jo- 
hann," — and  in  the  same  instant  I  recalled  the  frequent 
habit  of  the  Prussian  and  Polish  nobility  of  calling  their 
German  valets  by  French  names.  This,  then,  was 
"  Jean  !  "  The  address  was  certainly  "  Baron,"  and  why 
thrice  underscored,  unless  in  contemptuous  satire  ?  Light 
began  to  break  upon  the  matter  at  last.  "  Otto  "  had 
been  playing  the  part,  perhaps  assuming  the  name,  of  a 
nobleman,  seduced  to  the  deception  by  his  passion  for  the 
Countess'  sister,  Helmine.  This  explained  the  reference 
to  "the  papers,"  and  "  the  secret,"  and  would  account  for 
the  respectful  and  sympathetic  tone  of  the  Countess'  let 
ter.  But  behind  this  there  was  certainly  another  secret, 
in  which  "  Y."  (whoever  he  might  be)  was  concerned,  and 
which  related  to  money.  The  close  of  the  note,  which  I 
filled  out  to  read,  "  Your  friend  or  not,  as  you  may  de 
cide,"  conveyed  a  threat,  and,  to  judge  from  the  halves  of 
lines  immediately  preceding  it,  the  threat  referred  to  the 
money,  as  well  as  to  the  betrayal  of  an  assumed  charac 
ter. 

Here,  just  as  the  story  began  to  appear  in  faint  outline, 
my  discoveries   stopped  for  a  while.     I  ascertained  the 


CAN    A    LIFE    HIDE    ITSELF?  153 

breadth  of  the  original  note  by  a  part  of  the  middle-crease 
which  remained,  filled  out  the  torn  part  with  blank  paper, 
completed  the  divided  words  in  the  same  character  of  man 
uscript,  and  endeavored  to  guess  the  remainder,  but  no 
clairvoyant  power  of  divination  came  to  my  aid.  I  turn 
ed  over  the  letters  again,  remarking  the  neatness  with 
which  the  addresses  had  been  cut  off,  and  wondering  why 
the  man  had  not  destroyed  the  letters  and  other  memor 
anda  entirely,  if  he  wished  to  hide  a  possible  crime.  The 
fact  that  they  were  not  destroyed  showed  the  hold  which 
his  past  life  had  had  upon  him  even  to  his  dying  hour. 
Weak  and  vain,  as  I  had  already  suspected  him  to  be, — 
wanting  in  all  manly  fibre,  and  of  the  very  material  which 
a  keen,  energetic  villain  would  mould  to  his  needs, — I  felt 
that  his  love  for  his  sister  and  for  "  Helmine,"  and  other 
associations  connected  with  his  life  in  Germany  and  Po 
land,  had  made  him  cling  to  these  worn  records. 

I  know  not  what  gave  me  the  suspicion  that  he  had 
not  even  found  the  heart  to  destroy  the  exscinded  names ; 
perhaps  the  care  with  which  they  had  been  removed  ;  per 
haps,  in  two  instances,  the  circumstance  of  their  taking 
words  out  of  the  body  of  the  letters  with  them.  But  the 
suspicion  came,  and  led  to  a  re-examination  of  the  leath 
ern  wallets.  I  could  scarcely  believe  my  eyes,  when  feel 
ing  something  rustle  faintly  as  I  pressed  the  thin  lining  of 
an  inner  pocket,  I  drew  forth  three  or  four  small  pellets 
of  paper,  and  unrolling  them,  found  the  lost  addresses  ! 
I  fitted  them  to  the  vacant  places,  and  found  that  the  first 
letters  of  the  sister  in  Breslau  had  been  forwarded  to 
7* 


154  TALES    OF    HOME. 

"  Otto  Lindenschmidt,"  while  the  letter  to  Poland  was 
addressed  "  Otto  von  Herisau." 

I  warmed  with  this  success,  which  exactly  tallied  with 
the  previous  discoveries,  and  returned  again  to  the  Polish 
memoranda.  The  words  "  [Rusjsian  officers  "  in  " Jean's  " 
note  led  me  to  notice  that  it  had  been  written  towards  the 
close  of  the  last  insurrection  in  Poland — a  circumstance 
which  I  immediately  coupled  with  some  things  in  the  note 
and  on  the  leaf  of  the  journal.  "  No  tidings  of  Y  "  might 
indicate  that  Count  Kasincsky  had  been  concerned  in  the 
rebellion,  and  had  fled,  or  been  taken  prisoner.  Had  he 
left  a  large  amount  of  funds  in  the  hands  of  the  supposed 
Otto  von  Herisau,  which  were  drawn  from  time  to  time  by 
orders,  the  form  of  which  had  been  previously  agreed 
upon  ?  Then,  when  he  had  disappeared,  might  it  not  have 
been  the  remaining  funds  which  Jean  urged  Otto  to  divide 
with  him,  while  the  latter,  misled  and  entangled  in  decep 
tion  rather  than  naturally  dishonest,  held  back  from  such 
a  step  ?  I  could  hardly  doubt  so  much,  and  it  now  re 
quired  but  a  slight  effort  of  the  imagination  to  complete 
the  torn  note. 

The  next  letter  of  the  sister  was  addressed  to  Bremen. 
After  having  established  so  many  particulars,  I  found  it 
easily  intelligible.  "  I  have  done  what  I  can,"  she  wrote. 
"  I  put  it  in  this  letter  ;  it  is  all  I  have.  But  do  not  ask 
me  for  money  again  ;  mother  is  ailing  most  of  the  time, 
and  I  have  not  yet  dared  to  tell  her  all.  I  shall  suffer 
great  anxiety  until  I  hear  that  the  vessel  has  sailed.  My 
mistress  is  very  good ;  she  has  given  me  an  advance  on  my 


CAN    A    LIFE    HIDE    ITSELF?  155 

wages,  or  I  could  not  have  sent  thee  any  thing.  Mother 
thinks  thou  art  still  in  Leipzig  :  why  didst  thou  stay  there 
so  long  ?  but  no  difference  ;  thy  money  would  have  gone 
anyhow." 

It  was  nevertheless  singular  that  Otto  should  be  with 
out  money,  so  soon  after  the  appropriation  of  Count 
Kasincsky's  funds.  If  the  "  20  "  in  the  first  memorandum 
on  the  leaf  meant  "  twenty  thousand  rubles,"  as  I  conject 
ured,  and  but  four  thousand  two  hundred  were  drawn  by 
the  Count  previous  to  his  flight  or  imprisonment,  Otto's 
half  of  the  remainder  would  amount  to  nearly  eight  thou 
sand  rubles  ;  and  it  was,  therefore,  not  easy  to  account  for 
his  delay  in  Leipzig,  and  his  destitute  condition. 

Before  examining  the  fragments  relating  to  the  Ameri 
can  phase  of  his  life, — which  illustrated  his  previous  his 
tory  only  by  occasional  revelations  of  his  moods  and  feel 
ings, — I  made  one  more  effort  to  guess  the  cause  of  his 
having  assumed  the  name  of  "  Von  Herisau."  The  ini 
tials  signed  to  the  order  for  the  ring  ("  B.  v.  H.")  certainly 
stood  for  the  same  family  name  ;  and  the  possession  of 
papers  belonging  to  one  of  the  family  was  an  additional 
evidence  that  Otto  had  either  been  in  the  service  of,  or 
was  related  to,  some  Von  Herisau.  Perhaps  a  sentence 
in  one  of  the  sister's  letters — "  Forget  thy  disappointment 
so  far  as  /am  concerned,  for  I  never  expected  any  thing  " 
— referred  to  something  of  the  kind.  On  the  whole,  ser 
vice  seemed  more  likely  than  kinship  ;  but  in  that  case 
the  papers  must  have  been  stolen. 

I  had  endeavored,  from  the  start,  to  keep  my  sympa- 


I$6  TALES    OF    HOME. 

thies  out  of  the  investigation,  lest  they  should  lead  me  to 
misinterpret  the  broken  evidence,  and  thus  defeat  my  ob 
ject.  It  must  have  been  the  Countess'  letter,  and  the 
brief,  almost  stenographic,  signs  of  anxiety  and  unhappi- 
ness  on  the  leaf  of  the  journal,  that  first  beguiled  me  into 
a  commiseration,  which  the  simple  devotion  and  self-sac 
rifice  of  the  poor,  toiling  sister  failed  to  neutralize.  How 
ever,  I  detected  the  feeling  at  this  stage  of  the  examina 
tion,  and  turned  to  the  American  records,  in  order  to  get 
rid  of  it. 

The  principal  paper  was  the  list  of  addresses  of  which 
I  have  spoken.  I  looked  over  it  in  vain,  to  find  some  in 
dication  of  its  purpose  ;  yet  it  had  been  carefully  made  out 
and  much  used.  There  was  no  name  of  a  person  upon  it, 
— only  numbers  and  streets,  one  hundred  and  thirty-eight 
in  all.  Finally,  I  took  these,  one  by  one,  to  ascertain  if 
any  of  the  houses  were  known  to  me,  and  found  three,  out 
of  the  whole  number,  to  be  the  residences  of  persons  whom 
I  knew.  One  was  a  German  gentleman,  and  the  other 
two  were  Americans  who  had  visited  Germany.  The  rid 
dle  was  read  !  During  a  former  residence  in  New  York, 
I  had  for  a  time  been  quite  overrun  by  destitute  Germans, 
— men,  apparently,  of  some  culture,  who  represented  them 
selves  as  theological  students,  political  refugees,  or  unfor 
tunate  clerks  and  secretaries, — soliciting  assistance.  I 
found  that,  when  I  gave  to  one,  a  dozen  others  came  with 
in  the  next  fortnight ;  when  I  refused,  the  persecution 
ceased  for  about  the  same  length  of  time.  I  became  con 
vinced,  at  last,  that  these  persons  were  members  of  an  or- 


CAN    A    LIFE    HIDE    ITSELF?  157 

ganized  society  of  beggars,  and  the  result  proved  it ;  for 
when  I  made  it  an  inviolable  rule  to  give  to  no  one  who 
could  not  bring  me  an  indorsement  of  his  need  by  some 
person  whom  I  knew,  the  annoyance  ceased  altogether. 

The  meaning  of  the  list  of  addresses  was  now  plain. 
My  nascent  commiseration  for  the  man  was  not  only 
checked,  but  I  was  in  danger  of  changing  my  role  from 
that  of  culprit's  counsel  to  that  of  prosecuting  attorney. 

When  I  took  up  again  the  fragment  of  the  first  draught 
of  a  letter  commencing,  "  Dog  and  villain  !  "  and  applied 
it  to  the  words  "Jean"  or  "Johann  Helm,"  the  few  lines 
which  could  be  deciphered  became  full  of  meaning.  "  Don't 
think,"  it  began,  "  that  I  have  forgotten  you,  or  the  trick 
you  played  me  !  If  I  was  drunk  or  drugged  the  last  night, 
I  know  how  it  happened,  for  all  that.  I  left,  but  I  shall 
go  back.  And  if  you  make  use  cf "  (here  some  words 
were  entirely  obliterated)  .  ..."  is  true.  He  gave  me 
the  ring,  and  meant"  ....  This  was  all  I  could  make 
out.  The  other  papers  showed  only  scattered  memoran 
da,  of  money,  or  appointments,  or  addresses,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  the  diary  in  pencil. 

I  read  the  letter  attentively,  and  at  first  with  very  lit 
tle  idea  of  its  meaning.  Many  of  the  words  were  abbre 
viated,  and  there  were  some  arbitrary  signs.  It  ran  over 
a  period  of  about  four  months,  terminating  six  weeks  be 
fore  the  man's  death.  He  had  been  wandering  about 
the  country  during  this  period,  sleeping  in  woods  and 
barns,  and  living  principally  upon  milk.  The  condition 
of  his  pulse  and  other  physical  functions  was  scrupulously 


15*8  TALES    OF    HOME. 

set  down,  with  an  occasional  remark  of  "  good  "  or  "  bad." 
The  conclusion  was  at  last  forced  upon  me  that  he  had 
been  endeavoring  to  commit  suicide  by  a  slow  course  of 
starvation  and  exposure.  Either  as  the  cause  or  the  re 
sult  of  this  attempt,  I  read,  in  the  final  notes,  signs  of  an 
aberration  of  mind.  This  also  explained  the  singular  de 
meanor  of  the  man  when  found,  and  his  refusal  to  take 
medicine  or  nourishment.  He  had  selected  a  long  way 
to  accomplish  his  purpose,but  had  reached  the  end  at  last. 

The  confused  material  had  now  taken  shape  ;  the  dead 
man,  despite  his  will,  had  confessed  to  me  his  name  and 
the  chief  events  of  his  life.  It  now  remained — looking  at 
each  event  as  the  result  of  a  long  chain  of  causes — to 
deduce  from  them  the  elements  of  his  individual  charac 
ter,  and  then  fill  up  the  inevitable  gaps  in  the  story  from 
the  probabilities  of  the  operation  of  those  elements.  This 
was  not  so  much  a  mere  venture  as  the  reader  may  sup 
pose,  because  the  two  actions  of  the  mind  test  each  other. 
If  they  cannot,  thus  working  towards  a  point  and  back 
again,  actually  discover  what  was,  they  may  at  least  fix 
upon  a  very  probable  might  have  been. 

A  person  accustomed  to  detective  work  would  have 
obtained  my  little  stock  of  facts  with  much  less  trouble, 
and  would,  almost  instinctively,  have  filled  the  blanks  as 
he  went  along.  Being  an  apprentice  in  such  matters,  I 
had  handled  the  materials  awkwardly.  I  will  not  here 
retrace  my  own  mental  zigzags  between  character  and 
act,  but  simply  repeat  the  story  as  I  finally  settled  and 
accepted  it. 


CAN    A    LIFE    HIDE    ITSELF?  159 

Otto  Lindenschmidt  was  the  child  of  poor  parents  in 
or  near  Breslau.  His  father  died  when  he  was  young ; 
his  mother  earned  a  scanty  subsistence  as  a  washerwom 
an ;  his  sister  went  into  service.  Being  a  bright,  hand 
some  boy,  he  attracted  the  attention  of  a  Baron  von  He- 
risau,  an  old,  childless,  eccentric  gentleman,  who  took  him 
first  as  page  or  attendant,  intending  to  make  him  a  su 
perior  valet  de  chambre.  Gradually,  however,  the  Baron 
fancied  that  he  detected  in  the  boy  a  capacity  for  better 
things  ;  his  condescending  feeling  of  protection  had  grown 
into  an  attachment  for  the  handsome,  amiable,  grateful 
young  fellow,  and  he  placed  him  in  the  gymnasium  at 
Breslau,  perhaps  with  the  idea,  now,  of  educating  him  to 
be  an  intelligent  companion. 

The  boy  and  his  humble  relatives,  dazzled  by  this  op 
portunity,  began  secretly  to  consider  the  favor  as  almost 
equivalent  to  his  adoption  as  a  son.  (The  Baron  had 
once  been  married,  but  his  wife  and  only  child  had  long 
been  dead.)  The  old  man,  of  course,  came  to  look  upon 
the  growing  intelligence  of  the  youth  as  his  own  work : 
vanity  and  affection  became  inextricably  blended  in  his 
heart,  and  when  the  cursus  was  over,  he  took  him  home 
as  the  companion  of  his  lonely  life.  After  two  or  three 
years,  during  which  the  young  man  was  acquiring  habits 
of  idleness  and  indulgence,  supposing  his  future  secure, 
the  Baron  died, — perhaps  too  suddenly  to  make  full 
provision  for  him,  perhaps  after  having  kept  up  the  ap 
pearance  of  wealth  on  a  life-annuity,  but,  in  any  case, 
leaving  very  little,  if  any,  property  to  Otto.  In  his  dis- 


l6o  TALES    OF    HOME. 

appointment,  the  latter  retained  certain  family  papers 
which  the  Baron  had  intrusted  to  his  keeping.  The  ring 
was  a  'gift,  and  he  wore  it  in  remembrance  of  his  bene 
factor. 

Wandering  about,  Micawber-like,  in  hopes  that  some 
thing  might  turn  up,  he  reached  Posen,  and  there  either 
met  or  heard  of  the  Polish  Count,  Ladislas  Kasincsky, 
who  was  seeking  a  tutor  for  his  only  son.  His  accom 
plishments,  and  perhaps,  also,  a  certain  aristocratic  grace 
of  manner  unconsciously  caught  from  the  Baron  von 
Herisau,  speedily  won  for  him  the  favor  of  the  Count  and 
Countess  Kasincsky,  and  emboldened  him  to  hope  for 

the  hand  of  the  Countess'  sister,  Helmine ,  to  whom 

he  was  no  doubt  sincerely  attached.  Here  Johann  Helm, 
or  "  Jean,"  a  confidential  servant  of  the  Count,  who  looked 
upon  the  new  tutor  as  a  rival,  yet  adroitly  flattered  his 
vanity  for  the  purpose  of  misleading  and  displacing  him, 
appears  upon  the  stage.  "  Jean  "  first  detected  Otto's 
passion ;  "  Jean,"  at  an  epicurean  dinner,  wormed  out  of 
Otto  the  secret  of  the  Herisau  documents,  and  perhaps 
suggested  the  part  which  the  latter  afterwards  played. 

This  "  Jean "  seemed  to  me  to  have  been  the  evil 
agency  in  the  miserable  history  which  followed.  After 
Helmine's  rejection  of  Otto's  suit,  and  the  flight  or  cap 
tivity  of  Count  Kasincsky,  leaving  a  large  sum  of  money 
in  Otto's  hands,  it  would  be  easy  for  "  Jean,"  by  mingled 
persuasions  and  threats,  to  move  the  latter  to  flight,  after 
dividing  the  money  still  remaining  in  his  hands.  After 
the  theft,  and  the  partition,  which  took  place  beyond  the 


CAN   A   LIFE   HIDE   ITSELF?  l6l 

Polish  frontier,  "  Jean "  in  turn,  stole  his  accomplice's 
share,  together  with  the  Von  Herisau  documents. 

Exile  and  a  year's  experience  of  organized  mendican 
cy  did  the  rest.  Otto  Lindenschmidt  was  one  of  those 
natures  which  possess  no  moral  elasticity — which  have 
neither  the  power  nor  the  comprehension  of  atonement. 
The  first  real,  unmitigated  guilt — whether  great  or  small 
— breaks  them  down  hopelessly.  He  expected  no  chance 
of  self-redemption,  and  he  found  none.  His  life  in  Amer 
ica  was  so  utterly  dark  and  hopeless  that  the  -brightest 
moment  in  it  must  have  been  that  which  showed  him  the 
approach  of  death. 

My  task  was  done.  I  had  tracked  this  weak,  vain, 
erring,  hunted  soul  to  its  last  refuge,  and  the  knowledge 
bequeathed  to  me  but  a  single  duty.  His  sins  were  bal 
anced  by  his  temptations  ;  his  vanity  and  weakness  had 
revenged  themselves  ;  and  there  only  remained  to  tell 
the  simple,  faithful  sister  that  her  sacrifices  were  no  longer 
required.  I  burned  the  evidences  of  guilt,  despair  and 
suicide,  and  sent  the  other  papers,  with  a  letter  relating 
the  time  and  circumstances  of  Otto  Lindenschmidt's 
death,  to  the  civil  authorities  of  Breslau,  requesting  that 
they  might  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  his  sister  Elise. 

This,  I  supposed,  was  the  end  of  the  history,  so  far  as 
my  connection  with  it  was  concerned.  But  one  cannot 
track  a  secret  with  impunity ;  the  fatality  connected  with 
the  act  and  the  actor  clings  even  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
act.  I  had  opened  my  door  a  little,  in  order  to  look  out 
upon  the  life  of  another,  but  in  doing  so  a  ghost  had  en- 


1 62  TALES    OF    HOME. 

tered  in,  and  was  not  to  be  dislodged  until  I  had  done  its 
service. 

In  the  summer  of  1867  I  was  in  Germany,  and  during 
a  brief  journey  of  idlesse  and  enjoyment  came  to  the 
lovely  little  watering-place  of  Liebenstein,  on  the  southern 
slope  of  the  Thuringian  Forest.  I  had  no  expectation  or 
even  desire  of  making  new  acquaintances  among  the  gay 
company  who  took  their  afternoon  coffee  under  the  noble 
linden  trees  on  the  terrace  ;  but,  within  the  first  hour  of 
my  after-dinner  leisure,  I  was  greeted  by  an  old  friend, 
an  author,  from  Coburg,  and  carried  away,  in  my  own  de 
spite,  to  a  group  of  his  associates.  My  friend  and  his 
friends  had  already  been  at  the  place  a  fortnight,  and  knew 
the  very  tint  and  texture  of  its  gossip.  While  I  sipped 
my  coffee,  I  listened  to  them  with  one  ear,  and  to  Wag 
ner's  overture  to  "  Lohengrin "  with  the  other ;  and  I 
should  soon  have  been  wholly  occupied  with  the  fine  or 
chestra  had  I  not  been  caught  and  startled  by  an  unex 
pected  name. 

"  Have  you  noticed,"  some  one  asked,  "  how  much  at 
tention  the  Baron  von  Herisau  is  paying  her  ?  " 

I  whirled  round  and  exclaimed,  in  a  breath,  "  The 
Baron  von  Herisau  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  my  friend ;  "  do  you  know  him  ? " 

I  was  glad  that  three  crashing,  tremendous  chords 
came  from  the  orchestra  just  then,  giving  me  time  to  col 
lect  myself  before  I  replied :  "  I  am  not  sure  whether  it 
is  the  same  person :  I  knew  a  Baron  von  Herisau  long 
ago  :  how  old  is  the  gentleman  here  ? " 


CAN  A   LIFE   HIDE   ITSELF?  163 

"  About  thirty-five,  I  should  think,"  my  friend  an 
swered. 

"  Ah,  then  it  can't  be  the  same  person,"  said  I  :  "  still, 
if  he  should  happen  to  pass  near  us,  will  you  point  him 
out  to  me  ? " 

It  was  an  hour  later,  and  we  were  all  hotly  discussing 
the  question  of  Lessing's  obligations  to  English  literature, 
when  one  of  the  gentlemen  at  the  table  said :  "  There 
goes  the  Baron  von  Herisau :  is  it  perhaps  your  friend, 
sir  ? " 

I  turned  and  saw  a  tall  man,  with  prominent  nose, 
opaque  black  eyes,  and  black  mustache,  walking  beside 
a  pretty,  insipid  girl.  Behind  the  pair  went  an  elderly 
couple,  overdressed  and  snobbish  in  appearance.  A  car 
riage,  with  servants  in  livery,  waited  in  the  open  space 
below  the  terrace,  and  having  received  the  two  couples, 
whirled  swiftly  away  towards  Altenstein. 

Had  I  been  more  of  a  philosopher  I  should  have 
wasted  no  second  thought  on  the  Baron  von  Herisau. 
But  the  Nemesis  of  the  knowledge  which  I  had  throttled 
poor  Otto  Lindenschmidt's  ghost  to  obtain  had  come 
upon  me  at  last,  and  there  was  no  rest  for  me  until  I  had 
discovered  who  and  what  was  the  Baron.  The  list  of 
guests  which  the  landlord  gave  me  whetted  my  curiosity 
to  a  painful  degree  ;  for  on  it  I  found  the  entry  :  "  Aug. 
15. — Otto  v.  Herisau,  Rentier,  East  Prussia." 

It  was  quite  dark  when  the  carriage  returned.  I 
watched  the  company  into  the  supper-room,  and  then, 
whisking  in  behind  them,  secured  a  place  at  the  nearest 


164  TALES    OF    HOME. 

table.  I  had  an  hour  of  quiet,  stealthy  observation  before 
my  Coburg  friend  discovered  me,  and  by  that  time  I  was 
glad  of  his  company  and  had  need  of  his  confidence. 
But,  before  making  use  of  him  in  the  second  capacity,  I 
desired  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  adjoining  partie 
came.  He  had  bowed  to  them  familiarly  in  passing,  and 
when  the  old  gentleman  said,  "  Will  you  not  join  us,  Herr 

? "  I  answered  my  friend's  interrogative  glance  with 

a  decided  affirmative,  and  we  moved  to  the  other  table. 

My  seat  was  beside  the  Baron  von  Herisau,  with  whom 
I  exchanged  the  usual  commonplaces  after  an  introduction. 
His  manner  was  cold  and  taciturn,  I  thought,  and  there 
was  something  forced  in  the  smile  which  accompanied  his 
replies  to  the  remarks  of  the  coarse  old  lady,  who  con 
tinually  referred  to  the  "  Herr  Baron  "  as  authority  upon 
every  possible  subject.  I  noticed,  however,  that  he  cast 
a  sudden,  sharp  glance  at  me,  when  I  was  presented  to 
the  company  as  an  American. 

The  man's  neighborhood  disturbed  me.  I  was  obliged 
to  let  the  conversation  run  in  the  channels  already  se 
lected,  and  stupid  enough  I  found  them.  I  was  consider 
ing  whether  I  should  not  give  a  signal  to  my  friend  and 
withdraw,  when  the  Baron  stretched  his  hand  across  the 
table  for  a  bottle  of  Affenthaler,  and  I  caught  sight  of  a 
massive  gold  ring  on  his  middle  finger.  Instantly  I  re 
membered  the  ring  which  "  B.  v.  H."  had  given  to  Otto 
Lindenschmidt,  and  I  said  to  myself,  "  That  is  it !  "  The 
inference  followed  like  lightning  that  it  was  "Johann 
Helm  "  who  sat  beside  me,  and  not  a  Baron  von  Herisau  ! 


CAN    A    LIFE    HIDE    ITSELF?  165 

That  evening  my  friend  and  I  had  a  long,  absorbing 
conversation  in  my  room.  I  told  him  the  whole  story, 
which  came  back  vividly  to  memory,  and  learned,  in  re 
turn,  that  the  reputed  Baron  was  supposed  to  be  wealthy, 
that  the  old  gentleman  was  a  Bremen  merchant  or  banker, 
known  to  be  rich,  that  neither  was  considered  by  those 
who  had  met  them  to  be  particularly  intelligent  or  refined, 
and  that  the  wooing  of  the  daughter  had  already  become 
so  marked  as  to  be  a  general  subject  of  gossip.  My 
friend  was  inclined  to  think  my  conjecture  correct,  and 
willingly  co-operated  with  me  in  a  plan  to  test  the  matter. 
We  had  no  considerable  sympathy  with  the  snobbish  par 
ents,  whose  servility  to  a  title  was  so  apparent ;  but  the 
daughter  seemed  to  be  an  innocent  and  amiable  creature, 
however  silly,  and  we  determined  to  spare  her  the  shame 
of  an  open  scandal. 

If  our  scheme  should  seem  a  little  melodramatic,  it 
must  not  be  forgotten  that  my  friend  was  an  author.  The 
next  morning,  as  the  Baron  came  up  the  terrace  after  his 
visit  to  the  spring,  I  stepped  forward  and  greeted  him  po 
litely,  after  which  I  said  :  "  I  see  by  the  strangers'  list  that 
you  are  from  East  Prussia,  Baron ;  have  you  ever  been  in 
Poland  ? "  At  that  moment,  a  voice  behind  him  called 
out  rather  sharply,  "  Jean  !  "  The  Baron  started,  turned 
round  and  then  back  to  me,  and  all  his  art  could  not  pre 
vent  the  blood  from  rushing  to  his  face.  I  made,  as  if  by 
accident,  a  gesture  with  my  hand,  indicating  success,  and 
went  a  step  further. 

"  Because,"  said  I,  "  I  am  thinking  of  making  a  visit 


1 66  TALES    OF    HOME. 

to  Cracow  and  Warsaw,  and  should  be  glad  of  any  infor 
mation — " 

"Certainly!"  he  interrupted  me,  "and  I  should  be 
very  glad  to  give  it,  if  I  had  ever  visited  Poland." 

"At  least,"  I  continued,  "you  can  advise  me  upon 
one  point ;  but  excuse  me,  shall  we  not  sit  down  a  mo 
ment  yonder?  As  my  question  relates  to  money,  I  should 
not  wish  to  be  overheard." 

I  pointed  out  a  retired  spot,  just  before  reaching 
which  we  were  joined  by  my  friend,  who  suddenly  stepped 
cut  from  behind  a  clump  of  lilacs.  The  Baron  and  he 
saluted  each  other. 

"  Now,"  said  I  to  the  former,  "  I  can  ask  your  advice, 
Mr.  Johann  Helm  !  " 

He  was  not  an  adept,  after  all.  His  astonishment 
and  confusion  were  brief,  to  be  sure,  but  they  betrayed 
him  so  completely  that  his  after-impulse  to  assume  a 
1  aughty,  offensive  air  only  made  us  smile. 

"  If  I  had  a  message  to  you  from  Otto  Lindenschmidt, 
what  then  ?  "  I  asked. 

He  turned  pale,  and  presently  stammered  out,  "  He — 
he  is  dead !  " 

"Now,"  said  my  friend,  "  it  is  quite  time  to  drop  the 
mask  before  us.  You  see  we  know  you,  and  we  know 
your  history.  Not  from  Otto  Lindenschmidt  alone; 
Count  Ladislas  Kasincsky — " 

"  What !  Has  he  come  back  from  Siberia  ? "  exclaim 
ed  Johann  Helm.  His  face  expressed  abject  terror ; 
I  think  he  would  have  fallen  upon  his  knees  before 


CAN    A    LIFE    HIDE    ITSELF?  l6/ 

us  if  he  had  not  somehow  felt,  by  a  rascal's  instinct, 
that  we  had  no  personal  wrongs  to  redress  in  unmasking 
him. 

Our  object,  however,  was  to  ascertain  through  him  the 
complete  facts  of  Otto  Lindenschmidt's  history,  and  then 
to  banish  him  from  Liebenstein.  We  allowed  him  to 
suppose  for  awhile  that  we  were  acting  under  the  author 
ity  of  persons  concerned,  in  order  to  make  the  best  possi 
ble  use  of  his  demoralized  mood,  for  we  knew  it  would 
not  last  long. 

My  guesses  were  very  nearly  correct.  Otto  Linden- 
schmidt  had  been  educated  by  an  old  Baron,  Bernhard 
von  Herisau,  on  account  of  his  resemblance  in  person  to 
a  dead  son,  whose  name  had  also  been  Otto.  He  could 
not  have  adopted  the  plebeian  youth,  at  least  to  the  ex 
tent  of  giving  him  an  old  and  haughty  name,  but  this  the 
latter  nevertheless  expected,  up  to  the  time  of  the  Baron's 
death.  He  had  inherited  a  little  property  from  his  bene 
factor,  but  soon  ran  through  it.  "  He  was  a  light-headed 
fellow,"  said  Johann  He)m,  "but  he  knew  how  to  get  the 
confidence  of  the  old  Junkers.  If  he  hadn't  been  so 
cowardly  and  fidgety,  he  might  have  made » himself  a 
career." 

The  Polish  episode  differed  so  little  from  my  inter 
pretation  that  I  need  not  repeat  Helm's  version.  He 
denied  having  stolen  Otto's  share  of  the  money,  but  could 
not  help  admitting  his  possession  of  the  Von  Herisau 
papers,  among  which  were  the  certificates  of  birth  and 
baptism  of  the  old  Baron's  son,  Otto.  It  seems  that  he 


1 68  TALES    OF    HOME. 

had  been  fearful  of  Lindenschmidt's  return  from  America, 
for  he  managed  to  communicate  with  his  sister  in  Breslau, 
and  in  this  way  learned  the  former's  death.  Not  until 
then  had  he  dared  to  assume  his  present  disguise. 

We  let  him  go,  after  exacting  a  solemn  pledge  that  he 
would  betake  himself  at  once  to  Hamburg,  and  there 
ship  for  Australia.  (I  judged  that  America  was  already  am 
ply  supplied  with  individuals  of  his  class.)  The  sudden  de 
parture  of  the  Baron  von  Herisau  was  a  two  days'  wonder 
at  Liebenstein ;  but  besides  ourselves,  only  the  Bremen 
banker  knew  the  secret.  He  also  left,  two  days  after 
wards,  with  his  wife  and  daughter — their  cases,  it  was  re 
ported,  requiring  Kissingen. 

Otto  Lindenschmidt's  life,  therefore,  could  not  hide 
itself.  Can  any  life  ? 


TWIN-LOVE. 

HEN  John  Vincent,  after  wait- 
p  ing  twelve  years,  married  Phebe 
Etheridge,  the  whole  neighbor 
hood  experienced  that  sense  of 
relief  and  satisfaction  which  fol 
lows  the  triumph  of  the  right. 

Not  that  the  fact  of  a  true  love  is  ever  generally  recog 
nized  and  respected  when  it  is  first  discovered ;  for 
there  is  a  perverse  quality  in  American  human  nature 
which  will  not  accept  the  existence  of  any  fine,  un 
selfish  passion,  until  it  has  been  tested  and  established 
beyond  peradventure.  There  were  two  views  of  the  case 
when  John  Vincent's  love  for  Phebe,  and  old  Reuben 
Etheridge's  hard  prohibition  of  the  match,  first  became 
known  to  the  community.  The  girls  and  boys,  and  some 
of  the  matrons,  ranged  themselves  at  once  on  the  side  of 
the  lovers,  but  a  large  majority  of  the  older  men  and  a 
few  of  the  younger  supported  the  tyrannical  father. 

Reuben  Etheridge  was  rich,  and,  in  addition  to  what 
his  daughter  would  naturally  inherit  from  him,  she  already 
possessed  more  than  her  lover,  at  the  time  of  their  be- 
8 


I/O  TALES    OF    HOME. 

trothal.  This  in  the  eyes  of  one  class  was  a  sufficient  rea 
son  for  the  father's  hostility.  When  low  natures  live  (as  they 
almost  invariably  do)  wholly  in  the  present,  they  neither 
take  tenderness  from  the  past  nor  warning  from  the  pos 
sibilities  of  the  future.  It  is  the  exceptional  men  and 
women  who  remember  their  youth.  So,  these  lovers  re-' 
ceived  a  nearly  equal  amount  of  sympathy  and  condem 
nation  ;  and  only  slowly,  partly  through  their  quiet  fidel 
ity  and  patience,  and  partly  through  the  improvement  in 
John  Vincent's  worldly  circumstances,  was  the  balance 
changed.  Old  Reuben  remained  an  unflinching  despot 
to  the  last :  if  any  relenting  softness  touched  his  heart,  he 
sternly  concealed  it ;  and  such  inference  as  could  be 
drawn  from  the  fact  that  he,  certainly  knowing  what  would 
follow  his  death,  bequeathed  his  daughter  her  proper 
share  of  his  goods,  was  all  that  could  be  taken  for  consent. 
They  were  married :  John,  a  grave  man  in  middle 
age,  weather-beaten  and  worn  by  years  of  hard  work  and 
self-denial,  yet  not  beyond  the  restoration  of  a  milder 
second  youth ;  and  Phebe  a  sad,  weary  woman,  whose 
warmth  of  longing  had  been  exhausted,  from  whom  youth 
and  its  uncalculating  surrenders  of  hope  and  feeling  had 
gone  forever.  They  began  their  wedded  life  under  the 
shadow  of  the  death  out  of  which  it  grew ;  and  when, 
after  a  ceremony  in  which  neither  bridesmaid  nor  grooms 
man  stood  by  their  side,  they  united  their  divided  homes, 
it  seemed  to  their  neighbors  that  a  separated  husband  and 
wife  had  come  together  again,  not  that  the  relation  was 
new  to  either. 


TWIN-LOVE.  I/I 

John  Vincent  loved  his  wife  with  the  tenderness  of  an 
innocent  man,  but  all  his  tenderness  could  not  avail  to 
lift  the  weight  of  settled  melancholy  which  had  gathered 
upon  her.  Disappointment,  waiting,  yearning,  indulgence 
in  long  lament  and  self-pity,  the  morbid  cultivation  of  un 
happy  fancies — all  this  had  wrought  its  work  upon  her, 
and  it  was  too  late  to  effect  a  cure.  In  the  night  she 
awoke  to  weep  at  his  side,  because  of  the  years  when  she 
had  awakened  to  weep  alone  ;  by  day  she  kept  up  her  old 
habit  of  foreboding,  although  the  evening  steadily  refuted 
the  morning ;  and  there  were  times  when,  without  any 
apparent  cause,  she  would  fall  into  a  dark,  despairing  mood 
which  her  husband's  greatest  care  and  cunning  could  only 
slowly  dispel. 

Two  or  three  years  passed,  and  new  life  came  to  the 
Vincent  farm.  One  day,  between  midnight  and  dawn,  the 
family  pair  was  doubled  ;  the  cry  of  twin  sons  was  heard 
in  the  hushed  house.  The  father  restrained  his  happy 
wonder  in  his  concern  for  the  imperilled  life  of  the  moth 
er  ;  he  guessed  that  she  had  anticipated  death,  and  she 
now  hung  by  a  thread  so  slight  that  her  simple  will  might 
snap  it.  But  her  will,  fortunately,  was  as  faint  as  her  con 
sciousness;  she  gradually  drifted  out  of  danger,  taking 
her  returning  strength  with  a  passive  acquiescence  rather 
than  with  joy.  She  was  hardly  paler  than  her  wont,  but 
the  lurking  shadow  seemed  to  have  vanished  from  her 
eyes,  and  John  Vincent  felt  that  her  features  had  assumed 
a  new  expression,  the  faintly  perceptible  stamp  of  some 
spiritual  change. 


1 72  TALES    OF    HOME. 

It  was  a  happy  day  for  him  when,  propped  against 
his  breast  and  gently  held  by  his  warm,  strong  arm,  the 
twin  boys  were  first  brought  to  be  laid  upon  her  lap. 
Two  staring,  dark-faced  creatures,  with  restless  fists  and 
feet,  they  were  alike  in  every  least  feature  of  their  grotes 
que  animality.  Phebe  placed  a  hand  under  the  head  of 
each,  and  looked  at  them  for  a  long  time  in  silence. 

"  Why  is  this  ? "  she  said,  at  last,  taking  hold  of  a 
narrow  pink  ribbon,  which  was  tied  around  the  wrist  of 
one. 

"  He's  the  oldest,  sure,"  the  nurse  answered.  "  Only 
by  fifteen  minutes  or  so,  but  it  generally  makes  a  differ 
ence  when  twins  come  to  be  named ;  and  you  may  see 
with  your  own  eyes  that  there's  no  telling  of  'em  apart 
otherways." 

"  Take  off  the  ribbon,  then,"  said  Phebe  quietly ;  "  1 
know  them." 

"  Why,  ma'am,  it's  always  done,  where  they're  so  like  ! 
And  I'll  never  be  able  to  tell  which  is  which ;  for  they 
sleep  and  wake  and  feed  by  the  same  clock.  And  you 
might  mistake,  after  all,  in  giving  'em  names — 

"  There  is  no  oldest  or  youngest,  John  ;  they  are  two 
and  yet  one: this  is  mine,  and  this  is  yours." 

"  I  see  no  difference  at  all,  Phebe,"  said  John ;  "  and 
hovv  can  we  divide  them  ?  " 

"  We  will  not  divide,"  she  answered  ;  "  I  only  meant 
it  as  a  sign." 

She  smiled,  for  the  first  time  in  many  days.  He  was 
glad  of  heart,  but  did  not  understand  her.  "  What  shall 


TWIN-LOVE.  173 

we  call  them  ? "  he  asked.  "  Elias  and  Reuben,  after  our 
fathers?" 

"No,  John;  their  names  must  be  David  and  Jona 
than." 

And  so  they  were  called.  And  they  grew,  not  less, 
but  more  alike,  in  passing  through  the  stages  of  baby 
hood.  The  ribbon  of  the  older  one  had  been  removed, 
and  the  nurse  would  have  been  distracted,  but  for  Phebe's 
almost  miraculous  instinct.  The  former  comforted  her 
self  with  the  hope  that  teething  would  bring  a  variation  to 
the  two  identical  mouths ;  but  no !  they  teethed  as  one 
child.  John,  after  desperate  attempts,  which  always 
failed  in  spite  of  the  headaches  they  gave  him,  postponed 
the  idea  of  distinguishing  one  from  the  other,  until  they 
should  be  old  enough  to  develop  some  dissimilarity  of 
speech,  or  gait,  or  habit.  All  trouble  might  have  been 
avoided,  had  Phebe  consented  to  the  least  variation  in 
their  dresses ;  but  herein  she  was  mildly  immovable. 

"  Not  yet,"  was  her  set  reply  to  her  husband  ;  and  one 
day,  when  he  manifested  a  little  annoyance  at  her  persist 
ence,  she  turned  to  him,  holding  a  child  on  each  knee,  and 
said  with  a  gravity  which  silenced  him  thenceforth  : 
"  John,  can  you  not  see  that  our  burden  has  passed  into 
them  ?  Is  there  no  meaning  in  this — that  two  children 
who  are  one  in  body  and  face  and  nature,  should  be  given 
to  us  at  our  time  of  life,  after  such  long  disappointment 
and  trouble  ?  Our  lives  were  held  apart ;  theirs  were  uni 
ted  before  they  were  born,  and  I  dare  not  turn  them  in 
different  directions.  Perhaps  I  do  not  know  all  that  the 


174  TALES    OF    HOME. 

Lord  intended  to  say  to  us,  in  sending  them ;  but  His  hand 
is  here !  " 

"  I  was  only  thinking  of  their  good,"  John  meekly  an 
swered.  "  If  they  are  spared  to  grow  up,  there  must  be 
some  way  of  knowing  one  from  the  other." 

"  They  will  not  need  it,  and  I,  too,  think  only  of  them. 
They  have  taken  the  cross  from  my  heart,  and  I  will  lay 
none  on  theirs.  I  am  reconciled  to  my  life  through  them, 
John ;  you  have  been  very  patient  and  good  with  me,  and 
I  will  yield  to  you  in  all  things  but  in  this.  I  do  not  think 
I  shall  live  to  see  them  as  men  grown  ;  yet,  while  we  are 
together,  I  feel  clearly  what  it  is  right  to  do.  Can  you 
not,  just  once,  have  a  little  faith  without  knowledge, 
John?" 

"  I'll  try,  Phebe,"  he  said.  "  Any  way,  I'll  grant  that 
the  boys  belong  to  you  more  than  to  me." 

Phebe  Vincent's  character  had  verily  changed.  Her 
attacks  of  semi-hysterical  despondency  never  returned  ; 
her  gloomy  prophecies  ceased.  She  was  still  grave,  and 
the  trouble  of  so  many  years  never  wholly  vanished  from 
her  face ;  but  she  performed  every  duty  of  her  life  with  at 
least  a  quiet  willingness,  and  her  home  became  the  abode 
of  peace ;  for  passive  content  wears  longer  than  demon 
strative  happiness. 

David  and  Jonathan  grew  as  one  boy  :  the  taste  and 
temper  of  one  was  repeated  in  the  other,  even  as  the  voice 
and  features.  Sleeping  or  waking,  grieved  or  joyous,  well 
or  ill,  they  lived  a  single  life,  and  it  seemed  so  natural  for 
one  to  answer  to  the  other's  name,  that  they  probably 


TWIN-LOVE.  175 

would  have  themselves  confused  their  own  identities,  but 
for  their  mother's  unerring  knowledge.  Perhaps  uncon 
sciously  guided  by  her,  perhaps  through  the  voluntary  ac 
tion  of  their  own  natures,  each  quietly  took  the  other's 
place  when  called  upon,  even  to  the  sharing  of  praise  or 
blame  at  school,  the  friendships  and  quarrels  of  the  play 
ground.  They  were  healthy  and  happy  lads,  and  John 
Vincent  was  accustomed  to  say  to  his  neighbors,  "  They're 
no  more  trouble  than  one  would  be  ;  and  yet  they're  four 
hands  instead  of  two." 

Phebe  died  when  they  were  fourteen,  saying  to  them, 
with  almost  her  latest  breath,  "  Be  one,  always  !  "  Before 
her  husband  could  decide  whether  to  change  her  plan  of 
domestic  education,  they  were  passing  out  of  boyhood, 
changing  in  voice,  stature,  and  character  with  a  continued 
likeness  which  bewildered  and  almost  terrified  him.  He 
procured  garments  of  different  colors,  but  they  were  ac 
customed  to  wear  each  article  in  common,  and  the  result 
was  only  a  mixture  of  tints  for  both.  They  were  sent  to 
different  schools,  to  be  returned  the  next  day,  equally  pale, 
suffering,  and  incapable  of  stud)''.  Whatever  device  was 
employed,  they  evaded  it  by  a  mutual  instinct  which  ren 
dered  all  external  measures  unavailing.  To  John  Vin 
cent's  mind  their  resemblance  was  an  accidental  misfor 
tune,  which  had  been  confirmed  through  their  mother's 
fancy.  He  felt  that  they  were  bound  by  some  deep,  mys 
terious  tie,  which,  inasmuch  as  it  might  interfere  with  all 
practical  aspects  of  life,  ought  to  be  gradually  weakened. 
Two  bodies,  to  him,  implied  two  distinct  men,  and  it  was 


TALES    OF    HOME. 


wrong  to  permit  a  mutual  dependence  which  prevented 
either  from  exercising  his  own  separate  will  and  judgment. 

But,  while  he  was  planning  and  pondering,  the  boys 
became  young  men,  and  he  was  an  old  man.  Old,  and 
prematurely  broken;  for  he  had  worked  much,  borne 
much,  and  his  large  frame  held  only  a  moderate  measure 
of  vital  force.  A  great  weariness  fell  upon  him,  and  his 
powers  began  to  give  way,  at  first  slowly,  but  then  with  ac 
celerated  failure.  He  saw  the  end  coming,  long  before 
his  sons  suspected  it  ;  his  doubt,  for  their  sakes,  was  the 
only  thing  which  made  it  unwelcome.  It  was  "  upon  his 
mind  "  (as  his  Quaker  neighbors  would  say)  to  speak  to 
them  of  the  future,  and  at  last  the  proper  moment  came. 

It  was  a  stormy  November  evening.  Wind  and  rain 
whirled  and  drove  among  the  trees  outside,  but  the  sitting- 
room  of  the  old  farm-house  was  bright  and  warm.  Da 
vid  and  Jonathan,  at  the  table,  with  their  arms  over  each 
other's  backs  and  their  brown  locks  mixed  together,  read 
from  the  same  book  :  their  father  sat  in  the  ancient  rock 
ing-chair  before  the  fire,  with  his  feet  upon  a  stool.  The 
housekeeper  and  hired  man  had  gone  to  bed,  and  all  was 
still  in  the  house. 

John  waited  until  he  heard  the  volume  closed,  and  then 
spoke. 

"  Boys,"  he  said,  "  let  me  have  a  bit  of  talk  with  you. 
I  don't  seem  to  get  over  my  ailments  rightly,  —  never  will, 
maybe.  A  man  must  think  of  things  while  there's  time? 
and  say  them  when  they  have  to  be  said.  I  don't  know  as 
there's  any  particular  hurry  in  my  case  ;  only,  we  never 


TWIN-LOVE.  177 

can  tell,  from  one  day  to  another.  When  I  die,  every 
thing  will  belong  to  you  two,  share  and  share  alike,  either 
to  buy  another  farm  with  the  money  out,  or  divide  this  :  I 
won't  tie  you  up  in  any  way.  But  two  of  you  will  need 
two  farms  for  two  families  ;  for  you  won't  have  to  wait 
twelve  years,  like  your  mother  and  me." 

"  We  don't  want  another  farm,  father  !  "  said  David 
and  Jonathan  together. 

"  I  know  you  don't  think  so,  now.  A  wife  seemed  far 
enough  off  from  me  when  I  was  your  age.  You've  always 
been  satisfied  to  be  with  each  other,  but  that  can't  last 
It  was  partly  your  mother's  notion ;  I  remember  her  say 
ing  that  our  burden  had  passed  into  you.  I  never  quite 
understood  what  she  meant,  but  I  suppose  it  must  rather 
be  the  opposite  of  what  we  had  to  bear." 

The  twins  listened  with  breathless  attention  while  their 
father,  suddenly  stirred  by  the  past,  told  them  the  story  of 
his  long  betrothal. 

"And  now,"  he  exclaimed,  in  conclusion,  "it  may  be 
putting  wild  ideas  into  your  two  heads,  but  I  must  say  it  ! 
That  was  where  I  did  wrong — wrong  to  her  and  to  me, — 
in  waiting  !  I  had  no  right  to  spoil  the  best  of  our  lives  ; 
I  ought  to  have  gone  boldly,  in  broad  day,  to  her  father's 
house,  taken  her  by  the  hand,  and  led  her  forth  to  be  my 
wife.  Boys,  if  either  of  you  comes  to  love  a  woman  truly, 
and  she  to  love  you,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  God  ( I 
don't  say  man)  should  put  you  asunder,  do  as  I  ought  to 
have  done,  not  as  I  did  !  And,  maybe,  this  advice  is  the 
best  legacy  I  can  leave  you." 
8* 


1/8  TALES   OF    HOME. 

"  But,  father,"  said  David,  speaking  for  both,  •'  we 
have  never  thought  of  marrying." 

"  Likely  enough,"  their  father  answered  ;  "  we  hardly 
ever  think  of  what  surely  comes.  But  to  me,  looking 
back,  it's  plain.  And  this  is  the  reason  why  I  want  you 
to  make  me  a  promise,  and  as  solemn  as  if  I  was  on  my 
death-bed.  Maybe  I  shall  be,  soon." 

Tears  gathered  in  the  eyes  of  the  twins.  "  What  is  it, 
father  ?  "  they  both  said. 

"  Nothing  at  all  to  any  other  two  boys,  but  I  don't 
know  how  you'\\  take  it.  What  if  I  was  to  ask  you  to  live 
apart  for  a  while  ?  " 

"  Oh  father  !  "  both  cried.  They  leaned  together,  cheek 
pressing  cheek,  and  hand  clasping  hand,  growing  white 
and  trembling.  John  Vincent,  gazing  into  the  fire,  did 
not  see  their  faces,  or  his  purpose  might  have  been  shaken. 

"  I  don't  say  now"  he  went  on.  "  After  a  while,  when 
— well,  when  I'm  dead.  And  I  only  mean  a  beginning,  to 
help  you  toward  what  has  to  be.  Only  a  month  ;  I  don't 
want  to  seem  hard  to  you  ;  but  that's  little,  in  all  con 
science.  Give  me  your  word  :  say,  '  For  mother's  sake ! '  " 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Then  David  and  Jonathan 
said,  in  low,  faltering  voices,  "  For  mother's  sake,  I  prom 
ise." 

"  Remember  that  you  were  only  boys  to  her.  She 
might  have  made  all  this  seem  easier,  for  women  have  rea 
sons  for  things  no  man  can  answer.  Mind,  within  a  year 
after  I'm  gone  !  " 

He  rose  and  tottered  out  of  the  room. 


TWIN-LOVE.  1/9 

The  twins  looked  at  each  other  :  David  said,  "  Must 
we  ?  "  and  Jonathan,  "  How  can  we  ?  "  Then  they  both 
thought,  "  It  may  be  a  long  while  yet."  Here  was  a  pres 
ent  comfort,  and  each  seemed  to  hold  it  firmly  in  holding 
the  hand  of  the  other,  as  they  fell  asleep  side  by  side. 

The  trial  was  nearer  than  they  imagined.  Their  father 
died  before  the  winter  was  over  ;  the  farm  and  other 
property  was  theirs,  and  they  might  have  allowed  life  to 
solve  its  mysteries  as  it  rolled  onwards,  but  for  their  prom 
ise  to  the  dead.  This  must  be  fulfilled,  and  then — one 
thing  was  certain  ;  they  would  never  again  separate. 

"  The  sooner  the  better,"  said  David.  "  It  shall  be 
the  visit  to  our  uncle  and  cousins  in  Indiana.  You  will 
come  with  me  as  far  as  Harrisburg ;  it  may  be  easier  to 
part  there  than  here.  And  our  new  neighbors,  the  Brad- 
leys,  will  want  your  help  for  a  day  or  two,  after  getting 
home." 

"  It  is  less  than  death,"  Jonathan  answered,  "  and 
why  should  it  seem  to  be  more  ?  We  must  think  of 
father  and  mother,  and  all  those  twelve  years  ;  now  I 
know  what  the  burden  was." 

"  And  we  have  never  really  borne  any  part  of  it ! 
Father  must  have  been  right  in  forcing  us  to  promise." 

Every  day  the  discussion  was  resumed,  and  always 
with  the  same  termination.  Familiarity  with  the  inevita 
ble  step  gave  them  increase  of  courage ;  yet,  when  the 
moment  had  come  and  gone,  when,  speeding  on  opposite 
trains,  the  hills  and  valleys  multiplied  between  them  with 
terrible  velocity,  a  pang  like  death  cut  to  the  heart  of  each, 
and  the  divided  life  became  a  chill,  oppressive  dream. 


ISO  TALES    OF    HOME. 

During  the  separation  no  letters  passed  between  them. 
When  the  neighbors  asked  Jonathan  for  news  of  his  broth 
er,  he  always  replied,  "  He  is  well,"  and  avoided  further 
speech  with  such  evidence  of  pain  that  they  spared  him. 
An  hour  before  the  month  drew  to  an  end,  he  walked 
forth  alone,  taking  the  road  to  the  nearest  railway  station. 
A  stranger  who  passed  him  at  the  entrance  of  a  thick 
wood,  three  miles  from  home,  was  thunderstruck  on  meet 
ing  the  same  person  shortly  after,  entering  the  wood  from 
the  other  side  ;  but  the  farmers  in  the  near  fields  saw  two 
figures  issuing  from  the  shade,  hand  in  hand. 

Each  knew  the  other's  month,  before  they  slept,  and 
the  last  thing  Jonathan  said,  with  his  head  on  David's 
shoulder,  was,  "  You  must  know  our  neighbors,  the  Brad- 
leys,  and  especially  Ruth."  In  the  morning,  as  they 
dressed,  taking  each  other's  garments  at  random,  as  of  old, 
Jonathan  again  said,  "  I  have  never  seen  a  girl  that  I  like 
so  well  as  Ruth  Bradley.  Do  you  remember  what  father 
said  about  loving  and  marrying  ?  It  comes  into  my  mind 
whenever  I  see  Ruth  ;  but  she  has  no  sister." 

"  But  we  need  not  both  marry,"  David  replied,  "that 
might  part  us,  and  this  will  not.  It  is  for  always  now." 

«  For  always,  David." 

Two  or  three  days  later  Jonathan  said,  as  he  started 
on  an  errand  to  the  village  :  "  I  shall  stop  at  the  Bradleys 
this  evening,  so  you  must  walk  across  and  meet  me  there." 

When  David  approached  the  house,  a  slender,  girlish 
figure,  with  her  back  towards  him,  was  stooping  over  a 
bush  of  great  crimson  roses,  cautiously  clipping  a  blossom 


TWIN-LOVE.  iSl 

here  and  there.  At  the  click  of  the  gate-latch  she  started 
and  turned  towards  him.  Her  light  gingham  bonnet,  fall 
ing  back,  disclosed  a  long  oval  face,  fair  and  delicate, 
sweet  brown  eyes,  and  brown  hair  laid  smoothly  over  the 
temples.  A  soft  flush  rose  suddenly  to  her  cheeks,  and  he 
felt  that  his  own  were  burning. 

"  Oh  Jonathan  !  "  she  exclaimed,  transferring  the  roses 
to  her  left  hand,  and  extending  her  right,  as  she  came  for 
ward. 

He  was  too  accustomed  to  the  name  to  recognize  her 
mistake  at  once,  and  the  word  "  Ruth  !  "  came  naturally 
to  his  lips. 

"  I  should  know  your  brother  David  has  come,"  she 
then  said ;  "  even  if  I  had  not  heard  so.  You  look  so 
bright.  How  glad  I  am  !  " 

"  Is  he  not  here  ?  "  David  asked. 

"  No  ;  but  there  he  is  now,  surely  !  "  She  turned  to 
wards  the  lane,  where  Jonathan  was  dismounting.  "  Why, 
it  is  yourself  over  again,  Jonathan  !  " 

As  they  approached,  a  glance  passed  between  the 
twins,  and  a  secret  transfer  of  the  riding-whip  to  David 
set  their  identity  right  with  Ruth,  whose  manner  toward 
the  latter  innocently  became  shy  with  all  its  friendliness, 
while  her  frank,  familiar  speech  was  given  to  Jonathan,  as 
was  fitting.  But  David  also  took  the  latter  to  himself,  and 
when  they  left,  Ruth  had  apparently  forgotten  that  there 
was  any  difference  in  the  length  of  their  acquaintance. 

On  their  way  homewards  David  said :  "  Father  was 
right.  We  must  marry,  like  others,  and  Ruth  is  the  wife 


1 82  TALES    OF    HOME. 

for  us, — I  mean  for  you,  Jonathan.    Yes,  we  must  learn  to 
say  mine  and  yours,  after  all,  when  we  speak  of  her." 

"  Even  she  cannot  separate  us,  it  seems,"  Jonathan 
answered.  "  We  must  give  her  some  sign,  and  that  will 
also  be  a  sign  for  others.  It  will  seem  strange  to  divide 
ourselves  ;  we  can  never  learn  it  properly  ;  rather  let  us 
not  think  of  marriage." 

"  We  cannot  help  thinking  of  it  \  she  stands  in  moth 
er's  place  now,  as  we  in  father's." 

Then  both  became  silent  and  thoughtful.  They  felt 
that  something  threatened  to  disturb  what  seemed  to  be 
the  only  possible  life  for  them,  yet  were  unable  to  distin 
guish  its  features,  and  therefore  powerless  to  resist  it.  The 
same  instinct  which  had  been  born  of  their  wonderful 
spiritual  likeness  told  them  that  Ruth  Bradley  already 
loved  Jonathan  :  the  duty  was  established,  and  they  must 
conform  their  lives  to  it.  There  was,  however,  this  slight 
difference  between  their  natures — that  David  was  gener 
ally  the  first  to  utter  the  thought  which  came  to  the  minds 
of  both.  So  when  he  said,  "We  shall  learn  what  to  do 
when  the  need  comes,"  it  was  a  postponement  of  all  fore 
boding.  They  drifted  contentedly  towards  the  coming 
change. 

The  days  went  by,  and  their  visits  to  Ruth  Bradley 
were  continued.  Sometimes  Jonathan  went  alone,  but 
they  were  usually  together,  and  the  tie  which  united  the 
three  became  dearer  and  sweeter  as  it  was  more  closely 
drawn.  Ruth  learned  to  distinguish  between  the  two  when 
they  were  before  her  :  at  least  she  said  so,  and  they  were 


TWIN-LOVE.  183 

willing  to  believe  it.  But  she  was  hardly  aware  how  nearly 
alike  was  the  happy  warmth  in  her  bosom  produced  by 
either  pair  of  dark  gray  eyes  and  the  soft  half-smile  which 
played  around  either  mouth.  To  them  she  seemed  to  be 
drawn  within  the  mystic  circle  which  separated  them  from 
others — she,  alone  ;  and  they  no  longer  imagined  a  life  in 
which  she  should  not  share. 

Then  the  inevitable  step  was  taken.  Jonathan  de 
clared  his  love,  and  was  answered.  Alas  !  he  almost  for 
got  David  that  late  summer  evening,  as  they  sat  in  the 
moonlight,  and  over  and  over  again  assured  each  other 
how  dear  they  had  grown.  He  felt  the  trouble  in  David's 
heart  when  they  met. 

"  Ruth  is  ours,  and  I  bring  her  kiss  to  you."  he  said, 
pressing  his  lips  to  David's ;  but  the  arms  flung  around 
him  trembled,  and  David  whispered,  "  Now  the  change 
begins." 

"  Oh,  this  cannot  be  our  burden  ! "  Jonathan  cried, 
with  all  the  rapture  still  warm  in  his  heart. 

"  If  it  is,  it  will  be  light,  or  heavy,  or  none  at  all,  as 
we  shall  bear  it,"  David  answered,  with  a  smile  of  infin 
ite  tenderness. 

For  several  days  he  allowed  Jonathan  to  visit  the 
Bradley  farm  alone,  saying  that  it  must  be  so  on  Ruth's 
account.  Her  love,  he  declared,  must  give  her  the  fine 
instinct  which  only  their  mother  had  ever  possessed,  and 
he  must  allow  it  time  to  be  confirmed.  Jonathan,  how 
ever,  insisted  that  Ruth  already  possessed  it ;  that  she  was 
beginning  to  wonder  at  his  absence,  and  to  fear  that  she 


1 84  TALES     OF    HOME. 

would  not  be  entirely  welcome  to  the  home  which  must 
always  be  equally  his. 

David  yielded  at  once. 

"  You  must  go  alone,"  said  Jonathan,  "  to  satisfy 
yourself  that  she  knows  us  at  last." 

Ruth  came  forth  from  the  house  as  he  drew  near. 
Her  face  beamed  ;  she  laid  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders 
and  kissed*  him.  "  Now  you  cannot  doubt  me,  Ruth !  " 
he  said,  gently. 

"  Doubt  you,  Jonathan  !  "  she  exclaimed  with  a  fond 
reproach  in  her  eyes.  "  But  you  look  troubled ;  is  any 
thing  the  matter  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking  of  my  brother,"  said  David,  in  a  low 
tone. 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is,"  she  said,  drawing  him  into  the 
little  arbor  of  woodbine  near  the  gate.  They  took  seats 
side  by  side  on  the  rustic  bench.  "  He  thinks  I  may 
come  between  you  :  is  it  not  that  ?  "  she  asked.  Only 
one  thing  was  clear  to  David's  mind — that  she  would 
surely  speak  more  frankly  and  freely  of  him  to  the  sup 
posed  Jonathan  than  to  his  real  self.  This  once  he 
would  permit  the  illusion. 

"  Not  more  than  must  be,"  he  answered.  "  He  knew 
all  from  the  very  beginning.  But  we  have  been  like  one 
person  in  two  bodies,  and  any  change  seems  to  divide 
us." 

"  I  feel  as  you  do,"  said  Ruth.  "  I  would  never  con 
sent  to  be  your  wife,  if  I  could  really  divide  you.  I  love 
you  both  too  well  for  that." 


TWIN-LOVE.  185 

"  Do  you  love  me  ? "  he  asked,  entirely  forgetting  his 
representative  part. 

Again  the  reproachful  look,  which  faded  away  as  she 
met  his  eyes.  She  fell  upon  his  breast,  and  gave  him 
kisses  which  were  answered  with  equal  tenderness.  Sud 
denly  he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  burst  into 
a  passion  of  tears. 

"  Jonathan !  Oh  Jonathan  ! "  she  cried,  weeping  with 
alarm  and  sympathetic  pain. 

It  was  long  before  he  could  speak ;  but  at  last,  turn 
ing  away  his  head,  he  faltered,  "  I  am  David !  " 

There  was  a  long  silence. 

When  he  looked  up  she  was  sitting  with  her  hands 
rigidly  clasped  in  her  lap :  her  face  was  very  pale. 

"There  it  is,  Ruth,"  he  said ;  "we  are  one  heart  and 
one  soul.  Could  he  love,  and  not  I  ?  You  cannot  decide 
between  us,  for  one  is  the  other.  If  I  had  known  you 
first,  Jonathan  would  be  now  in  my  place.  What  fol 
lows,  then  ? " 

"  No  marriage,"  she  whispered. 

"  No  !  "  he  answered  ;  "  we  brothers  must  learn  to  be 
two  men  instead  of  one.  You  will  partly  take  my  place 
with  Jonathan  ;  I  must  live  with  half  my  life,  unless  I 
can  find,  somewhere  in  the  world,  your  other  half." 

"  I  cannot  part  you,  David  !  " 

"  Something  stronger  than  you  or  me  parts  us,  Ruth. 
If  it  were  death,  we  should  bow  to  God's  will :  well,  it 
can  no  more  be  got  away  from  than  death  or  judgment. 
Say  no  more :  the  pattern  of  all  this  was  drawn  long  be- 


1 86  TALES    OF    HOME. 

fore  we  were  born,  and  we  cannot  do  any  thing  but  work 
it  out." 

He  rose  and  stood  before  her.  "  Remember  this, 
Ruth,"  he  said ;  "  it  is  no  blame  in  us  to  love  each  other. 
Jonathan  will  see  the  truth  in  my  face  when  we  meet, 
and  I  speak  for  him  also.  You  will  not  see  me  again  un 
til  your  wedding-day,  and  then  no  more  afterwards — but, 
yes !  once,  in  some  far-off  time,  when  you  shall  know  me 
to  be  David,  and  still  give  me  the  kiss  you  gave  to-day." 

"  Ah,  after  death !  "  she  thought :  "  I  have  parted 
them  forever."  She  was  about  to  rise,  but  fell  upon  the 
seat  again,  fainting.  At  the  same  moment  Jonathan  ap 
peared  at  David's  side. 

No  word  was  said.  They  bore  her  forth  and  sup 
ported  her  between  them  until  the  fresh  breeze  had  re 
stored  her  to  consciousness.  Her  first  glance  rested  on 
the  brothers  hands,  clasping ;  then,  looking  from  one  to 
the  other,  she  saw  that  the  cheeks  of  both  were  wet. 

"  Now,  leave  me,"  she  said,  "  but  come  to-morrow, 
Jonathan ! "  Even  then  she  turned  from  one  to  the 
other,  with  a  painful,  touching  uncertainty,  and  stretched 
out  both  hands  to  them  in  farewell. 

How  that  poor  twin  heart  struggled  with  itself  is 
only  known  to  God.  All  human  voices,  and  as  they  be 
lieved,  also  the  Divine  Voice,  commanded  the  division  of 
their  interwoven  life.  Submission  would  have  seemed 
easier,  could  they  have  taken  up  equal  and  similar  bur 
dens  ;  but  David  was  unable  to  deny  that  his  pack  was 
overweighted.  For  the  first  time,  their  thoughts  began 
to  diverge. 


TWIN-LOVE.  IS/ 

At  last  David  said :  "  For  mother's  sake,  Jonathan, 
as  we  promised.  She  always  called  you  her  child.  And 
for  Ruth's  sake,  and  father's  last  advice  :  they  all  tell  me 
\vhat  I  must  do." 

It  was  like  the  struggle  between  will  and  desire,  in 
the  same  nature,  and  none  the  less  fierce  or  prolonged  be 
cause  the  softer  quality  foresaw  its  ultimate  surrender. 
Long  after  he  felt  the  step  to  be  inevitable,  Jonathan  sought 
to  postpone  it,  but  he  was  borne  by  all  combined  influ 
ences  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  time. 

And  now  the  wedding-day  came.  David  was  to  leave 
home  the  same  evening,  after  the  family  dinner  under  his 
father's  roof.  In  the  morning  he  said  to  Jonathan  :  "  I 
shall  not  write  until  I  feel  that  I  have  become  other  than 
now,  but  I  shall  always  be  here,  in  you,  as  you  will  be  in 
me,  everywhere.  Whenever  you  want  me,  I  shall  know 
it ;  and  I  think  I  shall  know  when  to  return." 

The  hearts  of  all  the  people  went  out  towards  them  as 
they  stood  together  in  the  little  village  church.  Both 
were  calm,  but  very  pale  and  abstracted  in  their  expres 
sion,  yet  their  marvellous  likeness  was  still  unchanged. 
Ruth's  eyes  were  cast  down  so  they  could  not  be  seen ; 
she  trembled  visibly,  and  her  voice  was  scarcely  audible 
when  she  spoke  the  vow.  It  was  only  known  in  the 
neighborhood  that  David  was  going  to  make  another  jour 
ney.  The  truth  could  hardly  have  been  guessed  by  pei- 
sons  whose  ideas  follow  the  narrow  round  of  their  own 
experiences ;  had  it  been,  there  would  probably  have  been 
more  condemnation  than  sympathy.  Bat  in  a  vague  way 


1 88  TALES    OF    HOME. 

the  presence  of  some  deeper  element  was  felt — the  fall 
ing  of  a  shadow,  although  the  outstretched  wing  was  un 
seen.  Far  above  them,  and  above  the  shadow,  watched 
the  Infinite  Pity,  which  was  not  denied  to  three  hearts 
that  day. 

It  was  a  long  time,  more  than  a  year,  and  Ruth  was 
lulling  her  first  child  on  her  bosom,  before  a  letter  came 
from  David.  He  had  wandered  westwards,  purchased 
some  lands  on  the  outer  line  of  settlement,  and  appeared 
to  be  leading  a  wild  and  lonely  life.  "  I  know  now,"  he 
wrote,  -"just  how  much  there  is  to  bear,  and  how  to  bear 
it.  Strange  men  come  between  us,  but  you  are  not  far  off 
when  I  am  alone  on  these  plains.  There  is  a  place  where 
I  can  always  meet  you,  and  I  know  that  you  have  found  it, 
— under  the  big  ash-tree  by  the  barn.  I  think  I  am  nearly 
always  there  about  sundown,  and  on  moonshiny  nights, 
because  we  are  then  nearest  together ;  and  I  never  sleep 
without  leaving  you  half  my  blanket.  When  I  first  begin 
to  wake  I  always  feel  your  breath,  so  we  are  never  really 
parted  for  long.  I  do  not  know  that  I  can  change  much  ; 
it  is  not  easy ;  it  is  like  making  up  your  mind  to  have  dif 
ferent  colored  eyes  and  hair,  and  I  can  only  get  sunburnt 
and  wear  a  full  beard.  But  we  are  hardly  as  unhappy  as 
we  feared  to  be  ;  mother  came  the  other  night,  in  a  dream, 
and  took  us  on  her  knees.  Oh,  come  to  me,  Jonathan, 
but  for  one  day  !  No,  you  will  not  find  me  ;  I  am  going 
across  the  Plains  !  " 

And  Jonathan  and  Ruth?  They  loved  each  other 
tenderly ;  no  external  trouble  visited  them  •  their  home 


TWIN-LOVE.  189 

was  peaceful  and  pure ;  and  yet,  every  room  and  stairway 
and  chair  was  haunted  by  a  sorrowful  ghost.  As  a 
neighbor  said  after  visiting  them,  "  There  seemed  to  be 
something  lost.''  Ruth  saw  how  constantly  and  how  un 
consciously  Jonathan  turned  to  see  his  own  every  feeling 
reflected  in  the  missing  eyes ;  how  his  hand  sought  another, 
even  while  its  fellow  pressed  hers  ;  how  half- spoken  words, 
day  and  night,  died  upon  his  lips,  because  they  could  not 
reach  the  twin-ear.  She  knew  not  how  it  came,  but  her 
own  nature  took  upon  itself  the  same  habit.  She  felt  that 
she  received  a  less  measure  of  love  than  she  gave — not 
from  Jonathan,  in  whose  whole,  warm,  transparent  heart 
no  other  woman  had  ever  looked,  but  something  of  her 
own  passed  beyond  him  and  never  returned.  To  both 
their  life  was  like  one  of  those  conjurer's  cups,  seemingly 
filled  with  red  wine,  which  is  held  from  the  lips  by  the 
false  crystal  hollow. 

Neither  spoke  of  this  :  neither  dared  to  speak.  The 
years  dragged  out  their  slow  length,  with  rare  and  brief 
messages  from  David.  Three  children  were  in  the  house, 
and  still  peace  and  plenty  laid  their  signs  upon  its  lintels. 
But  at  last  Ruth,  who  had  been  growing  thinner  and  paler 
ever  since  the  birth  of  her  first  boy,  became  seriously  ill. 
Consumption  was  hers  by  inheritance,  and  it  now  mani 
fested  itself  in  a  form  which  too  surely  foretold  the  result. 
After  the  physician  had  gone,  leaving  his  fatal  verdict 
behind  him,  she  called  to  Jonathan,  who,  bewildered  by 
his  grief,  sank  down  on  his  knees  at  her  bedside  and  sob 
bed  upon  her  breast. 


TALES    OF    HOME. 

"  Don't  grieve,"  she  said ;  "  this  is  my  share  of  the 
burden.  If  I  have  taken  too  much  from  you  and  David, 
now  comes  the  atonement.  Many  things  have  grown 
clear  to  me.  David  was  right  when  he  said  that  there 
was  no  blame.  But  my  time  is  even  less  than  the  doctor 
thinks  :  where  is  David  ?  Can  you  not  bid  him  come  ? " 

"  I  can  only  call  him  with  my  heart,"  he  answered. 
"  And  will  he  hear  me  now,  after  nearly  seven  years  ? " 

"  Call,  then  !  "  she  eagerly  cried.  "  Call  with  all  the 
strength  of  your  love  for  him  and  for  me,  and  I  believe 
he  will  hear  you  !  " 

The  sun  was  just  setting.  Jonathan  went  to  the  great 
ash-tree,  behind  the  barn,  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  cov 
ered  his  face,  and  the  sense  of  an  exceeding  bitter  cry 
filled  his  heart.  All  the  suppressed  and  baffled  longing, 
the  want,  the  hunger,  the  unremitting  pain  of  years,  came 
upon  him  and  were  crowded  into  the  single  prayer, 
"  Come,  David,  or  I  die  ! "  Before  the  twilight  faded, 
while  he  was  still  kneeling,  an  arm  came  upon  his  shoul 
der,  and  the  faint  touch  of  another  cheek  upon  his  own. 
It  was  hardly  for  the  space  of  a  thought,  but  he  knew 
the  sign. 

"  David  will  come !  "  he  said  to  Ruth. 

From  that  day  all  was  changed.  The  cloud  of  coming 
death  which  hung  over  the  house  was  transmuted  into 
fleecy  gold.  All  the  lost  life  came  back  to  Jonathan's 
face,  all  the  unrestful  sweetness  of  Ruth's  brightened  into 
a  serene  beatitude.  Months  had  passed  since  David  had 
been  heard  from  ;  they  knew  not  how  to  reach  him  with- 


TWIN-LOVE.  191 

out  many  delays;  yet  neither  dreamed  of  doubting  his 
coming. 

Two  weeks  passed,  three,  and  there  was  neither  word 
nor  sign.  Jonathan  and  Ruth  thought,  "He  is  near," 
and  one  day  a  singular  unrest  fell  upon  the  former.  Ruth 
saw  it,  but  said  nothing  until  night  came,  when  she  sent 
Jonathan  from  her  bedside  with  the  words,  "  Go  and 
meet  him  ? " 

An  hour  afterwards  she  heard  double  steps  on  the 
stone  walk  in  front  of  the  house.  They  came  slowly  to 
the  door  ;  it  opened  ;  she  heard  them  along  the  hall  and 
ascending  the  stairs  ;  then  the  chamber-lamp  showed  her 
the  two  faces,  bright  with  a  single,  unutterable  joy. 

One  brother  paused  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  ;  the  other 
drew  near  and  bent  over  her.  She  clasped  her  thin 
hands  around  his  neck,  kissed  him  fondly,  and  cried, 
"  Dear,  dear  David  !  " 

"  Dear  Ruth,"  he  said,  "  I  came  as  soon  as  I  could. 
I  was  far  away,  among  wild  mountains,  when  I  felt  that 
Jonathan  was  calling  me.  I  knew  that  I  must  return, 
never  to  leave  you  more,  and  there  was  still  a  little  work 
to  finish.  Now  we  shall  all  live  again  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Jonathan,  coming  to  her  other  side,  "  try 
to  live,  Ruth  ! " 

Her  voice  came  clear,  strong,  and  full  of  authority. 
"  I  do  live,  as  never  before.  I  shall  take  all  my  life  with 
me  when  I  go  to  wait  for  one  soul,  as  I  shall  find  it  there ! 
Our  love  unites,  not  divides,  from  this  hour !  " 

The  few  weeks  still  left  to  her  were  a  season  of  almost 


TALES    OF    HOME. 


superhuman  peace.  She  faded  slowly  and  painlessly, 
taking  the  equal  love  of  the  twin-hearts,  and  giving  an 
equal  tenderness  and  gratitude.  Then  first  she  saw  the 
mysterious  need  which  united  them,  the  fulness  and  joy 
wherewith  each  completed  himself  in  the  other.  All  the 
imperfect  past  was  enlightened,  and  the  end,  even  that 
now  so  near,  was  very  good. 

Every  afternoon  they  carried  her  down  to  a  cushioned 
chair  on  the  veranda,  where  she  could  enjoy  the  quiet  of 
the  sunny  landscape,  the  presence  of  the  brothers  seated 
at  her  feet,  and  the  sports  of  her  children  on  the  grass. 
Thus,  one  day,  while  David  and  Jonathan  held  her  hands 
and  waited  for  her  to  wake  from  a  happy  sleep,  she  went 
before  them,  and,  ere  they  guessed  the  truth,  she  was 
waiting  for  their  one  soul  in  the  undiscovered  land. 

And  Jonathan's  children,  now  growing  into  manhood 
and  girlhood,  also  call  David  "  father."  The  marks  left 
by  their  divided  lives  have  long  since  vanished  from  their 
faces  ;  the  middle-aged  men,  whose  hairs  are  turning  gray, 
still  walk  hand  in  hand,  still  sleep  upon  the  same  pillow, 
still  have  their  common  wardrobe,  as  when  they  were 
boys.  They  talk  of  "  our  Ruth  "  with  no  sadness,  for 
they  believe  that  death  will  make  them  one,  when,  at  the 
same  moment,  he  summons  both.  And  we  who  know 
them,  to  whom  they  have  confided  the  touching  mystery 
of  their  nature,  believe  so  too. 


THE  EXPERIENCES  OF  THE  A.  C. 


RIDGEPORT  !  Change  cars  for  the 
Naugatuck  Railroad  !  "  shouted  the 
conductor  of  the  New  York  and  Bos 
ton  Express  Train,  on  the  evening 
of  May  2yth,  1858.  Indeed,  he  does 
it  every  night  (Sundays  excepted), 
for  that  matter  ;  but  as  this  story  refers  especially  to  Mr. 
J.  Edward  Johnson,  who  was  a  passenger  on  that  train, 
on  the  aforesaid  evening,  I  make  special  mention  of  the 
fact.  Mr.  Johnson,  carpet-bag  in  hand,  jumped  upon  the 
platform,  entered  the  office,  purchased  a  ticket  for  Water- 
bury,  and  was  soon  whirling  in  the  Naugatuck  train  to 
wards  his  destination. 

On  reaching  Waterbury,  in  the  soft  spring  twilight, 
Mr.  Johnson  walked  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  station, 
curiously  scanning  the  faces  of  the  assembled  crowd. 
Presently  he  noticed  a  gentleman  who  was  performing 
the  same  operation  upon  the  faces  of  the  alighting  pas 
sengers.  Throwing  himself  directly  in  the  way  of  the 
latter,  the  two  exchanged  a  steady  gaze. 

"  Is  your  name  Billings  ?  "     "  Is  your  name  Johnson  ? " 
9 


194  TALES    OF    HOME. 

were  simultaneous  questions,  followed  by  the  simultane 
ous  exclamations — "  Ned  ! "  "  Enos  !  " 

Then  there  was  a  crushing  grasp  of  hands,  repeated 
after  a  pause,  in  testimony  of  ancient  friendship,  and  Mr. 
Billings,  returning  to  practical  life,  asked — 

"  Is  that  all  your  baggage  ?  Come,  I  have  a  buggy 
here :  Eunice  has  heard  the  whistle,  and  she'll  be  impa 
tient  to  welcome  you." 

The  impatience  of  Eunice  (Mrs.  Billings,  of  course,) 
was  not  of  long  duration,  for  in  five  minutes  thereafter 
she  stood  at  the  door  of  her  husband's  chocolate-colored 
villa,  receiving  his  friend. 

While  these  three  persons  are  comfortably  seated  at  the 
tea-table,  enjoying  their  waffles,  cold  tongue,  and  canned 
peaches,  and  asking  and  answering  questions  helter-skelter 
in  the  delightful  confusion  of  reunion  after  long  separation, 
let  us  briefly  inform  the  reader  who  and  what  they  are. 

Mr.  Enos  Billings,  then,  was  part  owner  of  a  manu 
factory  of  metal  buttons,  forty  years  old,  of  middling 
height,  ordinarily  quiet  and  rather  shy,  but  with  a  large 
share  of  latent  warmth  and  enthusiasm  in  his  nature. 
His  hair  was  brown,  slightly  streaked  with  gray,  his  eyes 
a  soft,  dark  hazel,  forehead  square,  eyebrows  straight, 
nose  of  no  very  marked  character,  and  a  mouth  moder 
ately  full,  with  a  tendency  to  twitch  a  little  at  the  corners. 
His  voice  was  undertoned,  but  mellow  and  agreeable. 

Mrs.  Eunice  Billings,  of  nearly  equal  age,  was  a  good 
specimen  of  the  wide-awake  New-England  woman.  Her 
face  had  a  piquant  smartness  of  expression,  which  might 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.    C.  195 

have  been  refined  into  a  sharp  edge,  but  for  her  natural 
hearty  good-humor.  Her  head  was  smoothly  formed,  her 
face  a  full  oval,  her  hair  and  eyes  blond  and  blue  in  a 
strong  light,  but  brown  and  steel-gray  at  other  times,  and 
her  complexion  of  that  ripe  fairness  into  which  a  ruddier 
color  will  sometimes  fade.  Her  form,  neither  plump  nor 
square,  had  yet  a  firm,  elastic  compactness,  and  her  slight 
est  movement  conveyed  a  certain  impression  of  decision 
and  self-reliance. 

As  for  J.  Edward  Johnson,  it  is  enough  to  say  that  he 
was  a  tall,  thin  gentleman  of  forty-five,  with  an  aquiline 
nose,  narrow  face,  and  military  whiskers,  which  swooped 
upwards  and  met  under  his  nose  in  a  glossy  black  mus 
tache.  His  complexion  was  dark,  from  the  bronzing  of 
fifteen  summers  in  New  Orleans.  He  was  a  member  of  a 
wholesale  hardware  firm  in  that  city,  and  had  now  revisit 
ed  his  native  North  for  the  first  time  since  his  departure. 
A  year  before,  some  letters  relating  to  invoices  of  metal 
buttons  signed,"  Foster,  Kirkup,  &  Co.,  per  Enos  Billings," 
had  accidentally  revealed  to  him  the  whereabouts  of  the 
old  friend  of  his  youth,  with  whom  we  now  find  him  dom 
iciled.  The  first  thing  he  did,  after  attending  to  some 
necessary  business  matters  in  New  York,  was  to  take  the 
train  for  Waterbury. 

"  Enos,"  said  he,  as  he  stretched  out  his  hand  for  the 
third  cup  of  tea  (which  he  had  taken  only  for  the  purpose 
of  prolonging  the  pleasant  table-chat),  "I  wonder  which 
of  us  is  most  changed." 

"You,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Billings,  "  with  your  brown 


196  TALES    OF    HOME. 

face  and  big  mustache.  Your  own  brother  wouldn't  have 
known  you  if  he  had  seen  you  last,  as  I  did,  with  smooth 
cheeks  and  hair  of  unmerciful  length.  Why,  not  even 
your  voice  is  the  same  !  " 

"That  is  easily  accounted  for,"  replied  Mr.  Johnson. 
"  But  in  your  case,  Enos,  I  am  puzzled  to  find  where  the 
difference  lies.  Your  features  seem  to  be  but  little  changed, 
now  that  I  can  examine  them  at  leisure ;  yet  it  is  not  the 
same  face.  But,  really,  I  never  looked  at  you  for  so  long  a 
time,  in  those  days.  I  beg  pardon  ;  you  used  to  be  so — 
so  remarkably  shy." 

Mr.  Billings  blushed  slightly,  and  seemed  at  a  loss 
what  to  answer.  His  wife,  however,  burst  into  a  merry 
laugh,  exclaiming — 

"  Oh,  that  was  before  the  days  of  the  A.  C  !  " 

He,  catching  the  infection,  laughed  also ;  in  fact  Mr. 
Johnson  laughed,  but  without  knowing  why. 

"The  'A.  CM  "said  Mr.  Billings.  "Bless  me,  Eu 
nice  !  how  long  it  is  since  we  have  talked  of  that  summer  ! 
I  had  almost  forgotten  that  there  ever  was  an  A.  C." 

"  Enos,  could  you  ever  forget  Abel  Mallory  and  the 
beer  ? — or  that  scene  between  Hollins  and  Shelldrake  ? — 
or"  (here  she  blushed  the  least  bit)  "your  own  fit  of  can 
dor  ? "  And  she  laughed  again,  more  heartily  than  ever. 

"  What  a  precious  lot  of  fools,  to  be  sure  !  "  exclaimed 
her  husban  1. 

Mr.  Johnson,  meanwhile,  though  enjoying  the  cheerful 
humor  of  his  hosts,  was  not  a  little  puzzled  with  regard  to 
its  cause. 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.   C.  197 

"  What  is  the  A.  C.  ?  "  he  ventured  to  ask. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Billings  looked  at  each  other,  and  smiled 
without  replying. 

"  Really,  Ned,"  said  the  former,  finally,  "  the  answer 
to  your  question  involves  the  whole  story." 

"  Then  why  not  tell  him  the  whole  story,  Enos  ?  "  re 
marked  his  wife. 

"  You  know  I've  never  told  it  yet,  and  it's  rather  a 
hard  thing  to  do,  seeing  that  I'm  one  of  the  heroes  of  the 
farce — for  it  wasn't  even  genteel  comedy,  Ned,"  said  Mr. 
Billings.  "  However,"  he  continued,  "  absurd  as  the 
story  may  seem,  it's  the  only  key  to  the  change  in  my 
life,  and  I  must  run  the  risk  of  being  laughed  at." 

"  I'll  help  you  through,  Enos,"  said  his  wife,  encourag 
ingly  •  "and  besides,  my  r'le  in  the  farce  was  no  better 
than  yours.  Let  us  resuscitate,  for  to-night  only,  the  con 
stitution  of  the  A.  C." 

"  Upon  my  word,  a  capital  idea  !  But  we  shall  have 
to  initiate  Ned." 

Mr.  Johnson  merrily  agreeing,  he  was  blindfolded  and 
conducted  into  another  room.  A  heavy  arm-chair,  rolling 
on  casters,  struck  his  legs  in  the  rear,  and  he  sank  into  it 
with  lamb-like 'resignation. 

"  Open  your  mouth  !  "  was  the  command,  given  with 
mock  solemnity. 

He  obeyed. 

"  Now  shut  it !  " 

And  his  lips  closed  upon  a  cigar,  while  at  the  same 
time  the  handkerchief  was  whisked  away  from  his  eyes 
He  found  himself  in  Mr.  Billing's  library. 


198  TALES    OF    HOM'E. 

"  Your  nose  betrays  your  taste,  Mr.  Johnson,"  said  the 
lady,  "  and  I  am  not  hard-hearted  enough  to  deprive  you 
of  the  indulgence.  Here  are  matches." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  acting  upon  the  hint,  "  if  the  remain 
der  of  the  ceremonies  are  equally  agreeable,  I  should  like 
to  be  a  permanent  member  of  your  order." 

By  this  time  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Billings,  having  between 
them  lighted  the  lamp,  stirred  up  the  coal  in  the  grate, 
closed  the  doors,  and  taken  possession  of  comfortable 
chairs,  the  latter  proclaimed — 

"The  Chapter  (isn't  that  what  you  call  it?)  will  now 
be  held  !  " 

"  Was  it  in  '43  when  you  left  home,  Ned  ? "  asked 
Mr.  B. 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  the  A.  C.  culminated  in  '45.  You  remember 
something  of  the  society  of  Norridgeport,  the  last  winter 
you  were  there  ?  Abel  Mallory,  for  instance  ?  " 

"  Let  me  think  a  moment,"  said  Mr.  Johnson  reflect 
ively.  "  Really,  it  seems  like  looking  back  a  hundred 
years.  Mallory — wasn't  that  the  sentimental  young  man, 
with  wispy  hair,  a  tallowy  skin,  and  big,  sweaty  hands, 
who  used  to  be  spouting  Carlyle  on  the  'reading  even 
ings  '  at  Shelldrake's  ?  Yes,  to  be  sure  ;  and  there  was 
Hollins,  with  his  clerical  face  and  infidel  talk, — and  Pau 
line  Ringtop,  who  used  to  say,  '  The  Beautiful  is  the 
Good.'  I  can  still  hear  her  shrill  voice,  singing,  '  Would 
that  /were  beautiful,  would  that  /were  fair  !  ' ' 

There  was  a  hearty  chorus  of  laughter  at  poor  Miss 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.    C.  199 

Ringtop's  expense.     It  harmed  no  one,  however  ;  for  the 
tar-weed  was  already  thick  over  her  Californian  grave. 

"Oh,  I  see,"  said  Mr.  Billings,  "you  still  remember 
the  absurdities  of  those  days.  In  fact,  I  think  you  partial 
ly  saw  through  them  then.  But  I  was  younger,  and  far 
from  being  so  clear-headed,  and  I  looked  upon  those 
evenings  at  Shelldrake's  as  being  equal,  at  least,  to  the 
symposia  of  Plato.  Something  in  Mallory  always  repelled 
me.  I  detested  the  sight  of  his  thick  nose,  with  the  flaring 
nostrils,  and  his  coarse,  half-formed  lips,  of  the  bluish  color 
of  raw  corned-beef.  But  I  looked  upon  these  feelings  as  un 
reasonable  prejudices,  and  strove  to  conquer  them,  seeing 
the  admiration  which  he  received  from  others.  He  was  an 
oracle  on  the  subject  of '  Nature.'  Having  eaten  nothing 
for  two  years,  except  Graham  bread,  vegetables  without 
salt,  and  fruits,  fresh  or  dried,  he  considered  himself  to 
have  attained  an  antediluvian  purity  of  health — or  that  he 
would  attain  it,  so  soon  as  two  pimples  on  his  left  temple 
should  have  healed.  These  pimples  he  looked  upon  as 
the  last  feeble  stand  made  by  the  pernicious  juices  left 
from  the  meat  he  had  formerly  eaten  and  the  coffee  he 
had  drunk.  His  theory  was,  that  through  a  body  so 
purged  and  purified  none  but  true  and  natural  impulses 
could  find  access  to  the  soul.  Such,  indeed,  was  the  the 
ory  we  all  held.  A  Return  to  Nature  was  the  near  Mil 
lennium,  the  dawn  of  which  we  already  beheld  in  the  sky. 
To  be  sure  there  was  a  difference  in  our  individual  views 
as  to  how  this  should  be  achieved,  but  we  were  all  agreed 
as  to  what  the  result  should  be. 


200  TALES    OF    HOME. 

"  I  can  laugh  over  those  days  now,  Ned  ;  but  they 
were  really  happy  while  they  lasted.  We  were  the  salt  of 
the  earth  ;  we  were  lifted  above  those  grovelling  instincts 
which  we  saw  manifested  in  the  lives  of  others.  Each  con 
tributed  his  share  of  gas  to  inflate  the  painted  balloon  to 
which  we  all  clung,  in  the  expectation  that  it  would  pres 
ently  soar  with  us  to  the  stars.  But  it  only  went  up  over 
the  out-houses,  dodged  backwards  and  forwards  two  or 
three  times,  and  finally  flopped  down  with  us  into  a  swamp." 

"  And  that  balloon  was  the  A.  C.  ?  "  suggested  Mr. 
Johnson. 

"  As  President  of  this  Chapter,  I  prohibit  questions," 
said  Eunice.  "  And,  Enos,  don't  send  up  your  balloon  un 
til  the  proper  time.  Don't  anticipate  the  programme,  or 
the  performance  will  be  spoiled." 

"  I  had  almost  forgotten  that  Ned  is  so  much  in  the 
dark,"  her  obedient  husband  answered.  "  You  can  have 
but  a  slight  notion,"  he  continued,  turning  to  his  friend, 
"  of  the  extent  to  which  this  sentimental,  or  transcendental, 
element  in  the  little  circle  at  Shelldrake's  increased  after 
you  left  Norridgeport.  We  read  the  '  Dial,'  and  Emerson  ; 
we  believed  in  Alcott  as  the  '  purple  Plato  '  of  modern 
times  ;  we  took  psychological  works  out  of  the  library, 
and  would  listen  for  hours  to  Hollins  while  he  read  Schel- 
ling  or  Fichte,  and  then  go  home  with  a  misty  impression 
of  having  imbibed  infinite  wisdom.  It  was,  perhaps,  a 
natural,  though  very  eccentric  rebound  from  the  hard,  prac 
tical,  unimaginative  New-England  mind  which  surround 
ed  us  ;  yet  I  look  back  upon  it  with  a  kind  of  wonder. 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.    C.  2OI 

I  was  then,  as  you  know,  unformed  mentally,  and  might 
have  been  so  still,  but  for  the  experiences  of  the  A.  C." 

Mr.  Johnson  shifted  his  position,  a  little  impatiently. 
Eunice  looked  at  him  with  laughing  eyes,  and  shook  her 
finger  with  a  mock  threat. 

"  Shelldrake,"  continued  Mr.  Billings,  without  noticing 
this  by-play,  "  was  a  man  of  more  pretence  than  real  cul 
tivation,  as  I  afterwards  discovered.  He  was  in  good  cir 
cumstances,  and  always  glad  to  receive  us  at  his  house,  as 
this  made  him,  virtually,  the  chief  of  our  tribe,  and  the  out 
lay  for  refreshments  involved  only  the  apples  from  his  own 
orchard  and  water  from  his  well.  There  was  an  entire  ab 
sence  of  conventionality  at  our  meetings,  and  this,  con- 
pared  with  the  somewhat  stiff  society  of  the  village,  was 
really  an  attraction.  There  was  a  mystic  bond  of  union 
in  our  ideas  :  we  discussed  life,  love,  religion,  and  the  fu 
ture  state,  not  only  with  the  utmost  candor,  but  with  a 
warmth  of  feeling  which,  in  many  of  us,  was  genuine. 
Even  I  (and  you  know  how  painfully  shy  and  bashful  I 
was)  felt  myself  more  at  home  there  than  in  my  father's 
house  ;  and  if  I  didn't  talk  much,  I  had  a  pleasant  feeling 
of  being  in  harmony  with  those  who  did. 

"  Well,  'twas  in  the  early  part  of  '45 — I  think  in  April, 
— when  we  were  all  gathered  together,  discussing,  as  usual, 
the  possibility  of  leading  a  life  in  accordance  with  Nature. 
Abel  Mallory  was  there,  and  Hollins,  and  Miss  Ringtop, 
and  Faith  Levis,  with  her  knitting,— and  also  Eunice 
Hazleton,  a  lady  whom  you  have  never  seen,  but  you 
may  take  my  wife  at  her  representative — " 
9* 


202  TALES    OF    HOME. 

"  Stick  to  the  programme,  Enos,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Bil 
lings. 

"Eunice  Hazleton,  then.  I  wish  I  could  recollect 
some  of  the  speeches  made  on  that  occasion.  Abel  had 
but  one  pimple  on  his  temple  (there  was  a  purple  spot 
where  the  other  had  been),  and  was  estimating  that  in  two 
or  three  months  more  he  would  be  a  true,  unspoiled  man. 
His  complexion,  nevertheless,  was  more  clammy  and  whey- 
like  than  ever. 

"  '  Yes,'  said  he,  '  I  also  am  an  Arcadian  !  This  false 
dual  existence  which  I  have  been  leading  will  soon  be 
merged  in  the  unity  of  Nature.  Our  lives  must  conform 
to  her  sacred  law.  Why  can't  we  strip  of?  these  hollow 
Shams,'  (he  made  great  use  of  that  word,)  '  and  be  our 
true  selves,  pure,  perfect,  and  divine  ? ' 

"  Miss  Ringtop  heaved  a  sigh,  and  repeated  a  stanza 
from  her  favorite  poet : 

"  '  Ah,  when  wrecked  are  my  desires 

On  the  everlasting  Never, 
And  my  heart  with  all  its  fires 

Out  forever, 

In  the  cradle  of  Creation 
Finds  the  soul  resuscitation  ! 

"  Shelldrake,  however,  turning  to  his  wife,  said — 

" '  Elviry,  how  many  up-stairs  rooms  is  there  in  that 
house  down  on  the  Sound  ? ' 

"'Four, — besides  three  small  ones  under  the  roof. 
Why,  what  made  you  think  of  that,  Jesse  ? '  said  she. 

"  '  I've  got  an  idea,  while  Abel's  been  talking,'  he  an- 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.   C.  203 

swered.  '  We've  taken  a  house  for  the  summer,  down  the 
other  side  of  Bridgeport,  right  on  the  water,  where  there's 
good  fishing  and  a  fine  view  of  the  Sound.  Now,  there's 
room  enough  for  all  of  us — at  least  all  that  can  make  it 
suit  to  go.  Abel,  you  and  Enos,  and  Pauline  and  Eunice 
might  fix  matters  so  that  we  could  all  take  the  place  in 
partnership,  and  pass  the  summer  together,  living  a  true 
and  beautiful  life  in  the  bosom  of  Nature.  There  we  shall 
be  perfectly  free  and  untrammelled  by  the  chains  which 
still  hang  around  us  in  Norridgeport.  You  know  how  of 
ten  we  have  wanted  to  be  set  on  some  island  in  the  Pa 
cific  Ocean,  where  we  could  build  up  a  true  society,  right 
from  the  start.  Now,  here's  a  chance  to  try  the  experiment 
for  a  few  months,  anyhow.' 

"  Eunice  clapped  her  hands  (yes,  you  did  ! )  and  cried 
out — 

" '  Splendid  !  Arcadian  !  I'll  give  up  my  school  for  the 
summer.' 

"Miss  Ringtop  gave  her  opinion  in  another  quota 
tion  : 

"  '  The  rainbow  hues  of  the  Ideal 

Condense  to  gems,  and  form  the  Real ! ' 

u  Abel  Mallory,  of  course,  did  not  need  to  have  the  pro 
posal  repeated.  He  was  ready  for  any  thing  which  prom 
ised  indulgence,  and  the  indulgence  of  his  sentimental 
tastes.  I  will  do  the  fellow  the  justice  to  say  that  he  was 
not  a  hypocrite.  He  firmly  believed  both  in  himself  and 
his  ideas — especially  the  former.  He  pushed  both  hands 


204  TALES    OF    HOME. 

through  the  long  wisps  of  his  drab-colored  hair,  and  threw 
his  head  back  until  his  wide  nostrils  resembled  a  double 
door  to  his  brain. 

"  l  Oh  Nature  ! '  he  said,  '  you  have  found  your  lost 
children  !  We  shall  obey  your  neglected  laws  !  we  shall 
hearken  to  your  divine  whispers !  we  shall  bring  you  back 
from  your  ignominious  exile,  and  place  you  on  your  ances 
tral  throne  ! ' 

"  '  Let  us  do  it !'  was  the  general  cry. 

"  A  sudden  enthusiasm  fired  us,  and  we  grasped  each 
other's  hands  in  the  hearty  impulse  of  the  moment.  My 
own  private  intention  to  make  a  summer  trip  to  the  White 
Mountains  had  been  relinquished  the  moment  I  heard 
Eunice  give  in  her  adhesion.  I  may  as  well  confess,  at 
once,  that  I  was  desperately  in  love,  and  afraid  to  speak 
to  her. 

"  By  the  time  Mrs.  Sheldrake  brought  in  the  apples 
and  water  we  were  discussing  the  plan  as  a  settled  thing. 
Hollins  had  an  engagement  to  deliver  Temperance  lec 
tures  in  Ohio  during  the  summer,  but  decided  to  postpone 
his  departure  until  August,  so  that  he  might,  at  least,  spend 
two  months  with  us.  Faith  Levis  couldn't  go — at  which, 
I  think,  we  were  all  secretly  glad.  Some  three  or  four 
others  were  in  the  same  case,  and  the  company  was  finally 
arranged  to  consist  of  the  Shelldrakes,  Hollins,  Mallory, 
Eunice,  Miss  Ringtop,  and  myself.  We  did  not  give  much 
thought,  either  to  the  preparations  in  advance,  or  to  our 
mode  of  life  when  settled  there.  We  were  to  live  near  to 
Nature  :  that  was  the  main  thing. 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.   C.  20$ 

"  '  What  shall  we  call  the  place  ? '  asked  Eunice. 

"  'Arcadia! '  said  Abel  Mallory,  rolling  up  his  large 
green  eyes. 

"  '  Then,'  said  Rollins,  '  let  us  constitute  ourselves  the 
Arcadian  Club!'  " 

— "  Aha  !  "  interrupted  Mr.  Johnson,  "  I  see  !     The 
A.  C.  !  " 

"  Yes,  you  can  see  the  A.  C.  now,"  said  Mrs.  Billings  ; 
"  but  to  understand  it  fully,  you  should  have  had  a  share 
in  those  Arcadian  experiences." 

"  I  am  all  the  more  interested  in  hearing  them  descri 
bed.  Go  on,  Enos." 

"  The  proposition  was  adopted.  We  called  ourselves 
The  Arcadian  Club  ;  but  in  order  to  avoid  gossip,  and  the 
usual  ridicule,  to  which  we  were  all  more  or  less  sensitive, 
in  case  our  plan  should  become  generally  known,  it  was 
agreed  that  the  initials  only  should  be  used.  Besides, 
there  was  an  agreeable  air  of  mystery  about  it :  we  thought 
of  Delphi,  and  Eleusis,  and  Samothrace  :  we  should  dis 
cover  that  Truth  which  the  dim  eyes  of  worldly  men  and 
women  were  unable  to  see,  and  the  day  of  disclosure 
would  be  the  day  of  Triumph.  In  one  sense  we  were 
truly  Arcadians  :  no  suspicion  of  impropriety,  I  verily  be 
lieve,  entered  any  of  our  minds.  In  our  aspirations  after 
what  we  called  a  truer  life  there  was  no  material  taint.  We 
were  fools,  if  you  choose,  but  as  far  as  possible  from  being 
sinners.  Besides,  the  characters  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Shell- 
drake,  who  naturally  became  the  heads  of  our  proposed 
community  were  sufficient  to  preserve  us  from  slander 


206  TALES    OF    HOME. 

or  suspicion,  if  even  our  designs  had  been  publicly  an 
nounced. 

"  I  won't  bore  you  with  an  account  of  our  prepara 
tions.  In  fact,  there  was  very  little  to  be  done.  Mr. 
Shelldrake  succeeded  in  hiring  the  house,  with  most  of  its 
furniture,  so  that  but  a  few  articles  had  to  be  supplied. 
My  trunk  contained  more  books  than  boots,  more  blank 
paper  than  linen. 

"  '  Two  shirts  will  be  enough,'  said  Abel  :  '  you  can 
wash  one  of  them  any  day,  and  dry  it  in  the  sun.' 

"The  supplies  consisted  mostly  of  flour,  potatoes,  and 
sugar.  There  was  a  vegetable-garden  in  good  condition, 
Mr.  Shelldrake  said,  which  would  be  our  principal  depend 
ence. 

"  '  Besides,  the  clams  ! '  I  exclaimed  unthinkingly. 

" '  Oh,  yes  ! '  said  Eunice,  '  we  can  have  chowder-par 
ties  :  that  will  be  delightful  ! ' 

"  '  Clams  !  chowder  !  oh,  worse  than  flesh  !  '  groaned 
Abel.  '  Will  you  reverence  Nature  by  outraging  her  first 
laws  ? ' 

"  I  had  made  a  great  mistake,  and  felt  very  foolish. 
Eunice  and  I  looked  at  each  other,  for  the  first  time." 

"  Speak  for  yourself  only,  Enos,"  gently  interpolated 
his  wife. 

"  It  was  a  lovely  afternoon  in  the  beginning  of  June 
when  we  first  approached  Arcadia.  We  had  taken  two 
double  teams  at  Bridgeport,  and  drove  slowly  forward  to 
our  destination,  followed  by  a  cart  containing  our  trunks 
and  a  few  household  articles.  It  was  a  bright,  balmy  day : 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.   C.  2O/ 

the  wheat-fields  were  rich  and  green,  the  clover  showed 
faint  streaks  of  ruby  mist  along  slopes  leaning  southward, 
and  the  meadows  were  yellow  with  buttercups.  Now  and 
then  we  caught  glimpses  of  the  Sound,  and,  far  beyond 
it,  the  dim  Long  Island  shore.  Every  old  white  farm 
house,  with  its  gray-walled  garden,  its  clumps  of  lilacs,  vi 
burnums,  and  early  roses,  offered  us  a  picture  of  pastoral 
simplicity  and  repose.  We  passed  them,  one  by  one,  in  the 
happiest  mood,  enjoying  the  earth  around  us,  the  sky 
above,  and  ourselves  most  of  all. 

"The  scenery,  however,  gradually  became  more  rough 
and  broken.  Knobs  of  gray  gneiss,  crowned  by  mournful 
cedars,  intrenched  upon  the  arable  land,  and  the  dark-blue 
gleam  of  water  appeared  through  the  trees.  Our  road, 
which  had  been  approaching  the  Sound,  now  skirted  the 
head  of  a  deep,  irregular  inlet,  beyond  which  extended  a 
beautiful  promontory,  thickly  studded  with  cedars,  and 
with  scattering  groups  of  elm,  oak  and  maple  trees.  To 
wards  the  end  of  the  promontory  stood  a  house,  with 
white  walls  shining  against  the  blue  line  of  the  Sound. 

"  '  There  is  Arcadia,  at  last !  '  exclaimed  Mr.  Shell- 
drake. 

"  A  general  outcry  of  delight  greeted  the  announce 
ment  And,  indeed,  the  loveliness  of  the  picture  surpass 
ed  our  most  poetic  anticipations.  The  low  sun  was  throw 
ing  exquisite  lights  across  the  point,  painting  the  slopes  of 
grass  of  golden  green,  and  giving  a  pearly  softness  to  the 
gray  rocks.  In  the  back-ground  was  drawn  the  far-off 
water-line,  over  which  a  few  specks  of  sail  glimmered 


2O8  TALES    OF    HOME. 

against  the  sky.  Miss  Ringtop,  who,  with  Eunice,  Mal- 
lory,  and  myself,  occupied  one  carriage,  expressed  her 
*  gushing  '  feelings  in  the  usual  manner: 

"  '  Where  the.  turf  is  softest,  greenest, 
Doth  an  angel  thrust  me  on, — 
Where  the  landscape  lies  serenest, 
In  the  journey  of  the  sun  ! ' 

"  '  Don't,  Pauline  ! '  said  Eunice ;  *  I  never  like  to  hear 
poetry  flourished  in  the  face  of  Nature.  This  landscape 
surpasses  any  poem  in  the  world.  Let  us  enjoy  the  best 
thing  we  have,  rather  than  the  next  best.' 

"  '  Ah,  yes  ! '  sighed  Miss  Ringtop,  '  'tis  true  ! 

"  '  They  sing  to  the  ear  ;  this  sings  to  the  eye  ! ' 

"  Thenceforward,  to  the  house,  all  was  childish  joy  and 
jubilee.  All  minor  personal  repugnances  were  smoothed 
Dver  in  the  general  exultation.  Even  Abel  Mallory  be 
came  agreeable ;  and  Hollins,  sitting  beside  Mrs.  Shell- 
drake  on  the  back  seat  of  the  foremost  carriage,  shouted 
to  us,  in  boyish  lightness  of  heart. 

"  Passing  the  head  of  the  inlet,  we  left  the  country- 
road,  and  entered,  through  a  gate  in  the  tottering  stone 
wall,  on  our  summer  domain.  A  track,  open  to  the  field 
on  one  side,  led  us  past  a  clump  of  deciduous  trees,  be 
tween  pastures  broken  by  cedared  knolls  of  rock,  down 
the  centre  of  the  peninsula,  to  the  house.  It  was  quite 
an  old  frame-building,  two  stories  high,  with  a  gambrel 
roof  and  tall  chimneys.  Two  slim  Lombardy  poplars  and 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.   C.  2OQ 

a  broad-leaved  catalpa  shaded  the  southern  side,  and  a 
kitchen-garden,  divided  in  the  centre  by  a  double  row  of 
untrimmed  currant-bushes,  flanked  it  on  the  east.  For 
flowers,  there  were  masses  of  blue  flags  and  coarse  tawny- 
red  lilies,  besides  a  huge  trumpet-vine  which  swung  its 
pendent  arms  from  one  of  the  gables.  In  front  of  the 
house  a  natural  lawn  of  mingled  turf  and  rock  sloped 
steeply  down  to  the  water,  which  was  not  more  than  two 
hundred  yards  distant.  To  the  west  was  another  and 
broader  inlet  of  the  Sound,  out  of  which  our  Arcadian 
promontory  rose  bluff  and  bold,  crowned  with  a  thick 
fringe  of  pines.  It  was  really  a  lovely  spot  which  Shell- 
drake  had  chosen — so  secluded,  while  almost  surrounded 
by  the  winged  and  moving  life  of  the  Sound,  so  simple, 
so  pastoral  and  home-like.  No  one  doubted  the  success 
of  our  experiment,  for  that  evening  at  least. 

"  Perkins  Brown,  Shelldrake's  boy-of-all-work,  awaited 
us  at  the  door.  He  had  been  sent  on  two  or  three  days 
in  advance,  to  take  charge  of  the  house,  and  seemed  to 
have  had  enough  of  hermit-life,  for  he  hailed  us  with  a 
wild  whoop,  throwing  his  straw  hat  half-way  up  one  of  the 
poplars.  Perkins  was  a  boy  of  fifteen,  the  child  of  poor 
parents,  who  were  satisfied  to  get  him  off  their  hands,  re 
gardless  as  to  what  humanitarian  theories  might  be  tested 
upon  him.  As  the  Arcadian  Club  recognized  no  such 
thing  as  caste,  he  was  always  admitted  to  our  meetings, 
and  understood  just  enough  of  our  conrersation  to  excite 
a  silly  ambition  in  his  slow  mind.  His  animal  nature  was 
predominant,  and  this  led  him  to  bs  deceitful.  At  that 


210  TALES    OF    HOME. 

time,  however,  we  all  looked  upon  him  as  a  proper  young 
Arcadian,  and  hoped  that  he  would  develop  into  a  second 
Abel  Mallory. 

"  After  our  effects  had  been  deposited  on  the  stoop, 
and  the  carriages  had  driven  away,  we  proceeded  to  ap 
portion  the  rooms,  and  take  possession.  On  the  first  floor 
there  were  three  rooms,  two  of  which  would  serve  us  as 
dining  and  drawing  rooms,  leaving  the  third  for  the  Shell- 
drakes.  As  neither  Eunice  and  Miss  Ringtop,  nor  Hol- 
lins  and  Abel  showed  any  disposition  to  room  together, 
I  quietly  gave  up  to  them  the  four  rooms  in  the  sec 
ond  story,  and  installed  myself  in  one  of  the  attic  cham 
bers.  Here  I  could  hear  the  music  of  the  rain  close 
above  my  head,  and  through  the  little  gable  window,  as  I 
lay  in  bed,  watch  the  colors  of  the  morning  gradually 
steal  over  the  distant  shores.  The  end  was,  we  were  all 
satisfied. 

"  '  Now  for  our  first  meal  in  Arcadia ! '  was  the  next 
cry.  Mrs.  Shelldrake,  like  a  prudent  housekeeper, 
marched  off  to  the  kitchen,  where  Perkins  had  already 
kindled  a  fire.  We  looked  in  at  the  door,  but  thought  it 
best  to  allow  her  undisputed  sway  in  such  a  narrow 
realm.  Eunice  was  unpacking  some  loaves  of  bread  and 
paper  bags  of  crackers ;  and  Miss  Ringtop,  smiling 
through  her  ropy  curls,  as  much  as  to  say,  'You  see,  7 
also  can  perform  the  coarser  tasks  of  life ! '  occupied  her 
self  with  plates  and  cups.  We  men,  therefore,  walked 
out  to  the  garden,  which  we  found  in  a  promising  condi 
tion.  The  usual  vegetables  had  been  planted  and  were 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE  A.    C.  211 

growing  finely,  for  the  season  was  yet  scarcely  warm 
enough  for  the  weeds  to  make  much  headway.  Radishes, 
young  onions,  and  lettuce  formed  our  contribution  to  the 
table.  The  Shelldrakes,  I  should  explain,  had  not  yet 
advanced  to  the  antediluvian  point,  in  diet :  nor,  indeed, 
had  either  Eunice  or  myself.  We  acknowledged  the  fas 
cination  of  tea,  we  saw  a  very  mitigated  evil  in  milk  and 
butter,  and  we  were  conscious  of  stifled  longings  after  the 
abomination  of  meat.  Only  Mallory,  Hollins,  and  Miss 
Ringtop  had  reached  that  loftiest  round  on  the  ladder  of 
progress  where  the  material  nature  loosens  the  last  fetter 
of  the  spiritual.  They  looked  down  upon  us,  and  we 
meekly  admitted  their  right  to  do  so. 

"  Our  board,  that  evening,  was  really  tempting.  The 
absence  of  meat  was  compensated  to  us  by  the  crisp  and 
racy  onions,  and  I  craved  only  a  little  salt,  which  had 
been  interdicted,  as  a  most  pernicious  substance.  I  sat 
at  one  corner  of  the  table,  beside  Perkins  Brown,  who 
took  an  opportunity,  while  the  others  were  engaged  in 
conversation,  to  jog  my  elbow  gently-.  As  I  turned  to 
wards  him,  he  said  nothing,  but  dropped  his  eyes  signifi 
cantly.  The  little  rascal  had  the  lid  of  a  blacking-box, 
filled  with  salt,  upon  his  knee,  and  was  privately  season 
ing  his  onions  and  radishes.  I  blushed  at  the  thought 
of  my  hypocrisy,  but  the  onions  were  so  much  better  that 
I  couldn't  help  dipping  into  the  lid  with  him. 

"  '  Oh,'  said  Eunice,  '  we  must  send  for  some  oil  and 
vinegar!  This  lettuce  is  very  nice.' 


"  '  Oil  and  vinegar  ? '  exclaimed  Abel. 


212  TALES    OF    HOME. 

"  '  Why,  yes,'  said  she,  innocently  :  '  they  are  both 
vegetable  substances.' 

"  Abel  at  first  looked  rather  foolish,  but  quickly  re 
covering  himself,  said — 

"  '  All  vegetable  substances  are  not  proper  for  food  : 
you  would  not  taste  the  poison-oak,  or  sit  under  the 
upas-tree  of  Java.' 

"  'Well,  Abel,'  Eunice  rejoined,  'how  are  we  to  dis 
tinguish  what  is  best  for  us  ?  How  are  we  to  know  what 
vegetables  to  choose,  or  what  animal  and  mineral  sub 
stances  to  avoid  ? ' 

"  '  I  will  tell  you,'  he  answered,  with  a  lofty  air.  '  See 
here  ! '  pointing  to  his  temple,  where  the  second  pimple 
— either  from  the  change  of  air,  or  because,  in  the  ex 
citement  of  the  last  few  days,  he  had  forgotten  it — was 
actually  healed.  '  My  blood  is  at  last  pure.  The  strug 
gle  between  the  natural  and  the  unnatural  is  over,  and  I 
am  beyond  the  depraved  influences  of  my  former  taste. 
My  instincts  are  now,  therefore,  entirely  pure  also.  What 
is  good  for  man  to  eat,  that  I  shall  have  a  natural  desire 
to  eat :  what  is  bad  will  be  naturally  repelled.  How  does 
the  cow  distinguish  between  the  wholesome  and  the  poi 
sonous  herbs  of  the  meadow  ?  And  is  man  less  than  a 
cow,  that  he  cannot  cultivate  his  instincts  to  an  equal 
point  ?  Let  me  walk  through  the  woods  and  I  can  tell 
you  every  berry  and  root  which  God  designed  for  food, 
though  I  know  not  its  name,  and  have  never  seen  it  be 
fore.  I  shall  make  use  of  my  time,  during  our  sojourn 
here,  to  test,  by  my  purified  instinct,  every  substance,  an- 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.   C.  213 

imal,  mineral,  and  vegetable,  upon  which  the  human  race 
subsists,  and  to  create  a  catalogue  of  the  True  Food  of 
Man!' 

"  Abel  was  eloquent  on  this  theme,  and  he  silenced 
not  only  Eunice,  but  the  rest  of  us.  Indeed,  as  we  were 
all  half  infected  with  the  same  delusions,  it  was  not  easy 
to  answer  his  sophistries. 

"  After  supper  was  over,  the  prospect  of  cleaning  the 
dishes  and  putting  things  in  order  was  not  so  agreeable  ; 
but  Mrs.  Shelldrake  and  Perkins  undertook  the  work, 
and  we  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  interfere  with  them. 
Half  an  hour  afterwards,  when  the  full  moon  had  risen, 
we  took  our  chairs  upon  the  stoop,  to  enjoy  the  calm, 
silver  night,  the  soft  sea-air,  and  our  summer's  residence 
in  anticipatory  talk. 

"  '  My  friends,'  said  Hollins  (and  his  hobby,  as  you 
may  remember,  Ned,  was  the  organization  of  Society, 
rather  than  those  reforms  which  apply  directly  to  the  In 
dividual), — 'my  friends,  I  think  we  are  sufficiently  ad 
vanced  in  progressive  ideas  to  establish  our  little  Arca 
dian  community  upon  what  I  consider  the  true  basis : 
not  Law,  nor  Custom,  but  the  uncorrupted  impulses  of 
our  nature.  What  Abel  said  in  regard  to  dietetic  reform 
is  true ;  but  that  alone  will  not  regenerate  the  race.  We 
must  rise  superior  to  those  conventional  ideas  of  Duty 
whereby  Life  is  warped  and  crippled.  Life  must  not  be 
a  prison,  where  each  one  must  come  and  go,  work,  eat, 
and  sleep,  as  the  jailer  commands.  Labor  must  not  be 
a  necessity,  but  a  spontaneous  joy.  Tis  true,  but  little 


214  TALES    OF    HOME. 

labor  is  required  of  us  here :  let  us,  therefore,  have  no 
set  tasks,  no  fixed  rules,  but  each  one  work,  rest,  eat, 
sleep,  talk  or  be  silent,  as  his  own  nature  prompts.' 

"  Perkins,  sitting  on  the  steps,  gave  a  suppressed 
chuckle,  which  I  think  no  one  heard  but  myself.  I  was 
vexed  with  his  levity,  but,  nevertheless,  gave  him  a  warning 
nudge  with  my  toe,  in  payment  for  the  surreptitious  salt. 

" '  That's  just  the  notion  I  had,  when  I  first  talked 
of  our  coming  here,'  said  Shelldrake.  '  Here  we're 
alone  and  unhindered ;  and  if  the  plan  shouldn't  happen 
to  work  well  (I  don't  see  why  it  shouldn't  though),  no 
harm  will  be  done.  IVe  had  a  deal  of  hard  work  in  my 
life,  and  I've  been  badgered  and  bullied  so  much  by 
your  strait-laced  professors,  that  I'm  glad  to  get  away 
from  the  world  for  a  spell,  and  talk  and  do  rationally, 
without  being  laughed  at.' 

"  '  Yes,'  answered  Hollins,  '  and  if  we  succeed,  as  I 
feel  we  shall,  for  I  think  I  know  the  hearts  of  all  of  us 
here,  this  may  be  the  commencement  of  a  new  eepoch  for 
the  world.  We  may  become  the  turning-point  between 
two  dispensations  :  behind  us  every  thing  false  and  un 
natural,  before  us  every  thing  true,  beautiful,  and  good.' 

" '  Ah,'  sighed  Miss  Ringtop,  '  it  reminds  me  of  Ga 
maliel  J.  Gawthrop's  beautiful  lines  : 

"  '  Unrobed  man  is  lying  hoary 

In  the  distance,  gray  and  dead  ; 
There  no  wreaths  of  godless  glory 

To  his  mist-like  tresses  wed, 
And  the  foot-fall  of  the  Ages 

Reigns  supreme,  with  noiseless  tread.' 


THE    EXPERIENCES  OF   THE    A.   C.  21 5 

"  *  I  am  willing  to  try  the  experiment,'  said  I,  on  be 
ing  appealed  to  by  Rollins ;  '  but  don't  you  think  we  had 
better  observe  some  kind  of  order,  even  in  yielding  every 
thing  to  impulse  ?  Shouldn't  there  be,  at  least,  a  plat 
form,  as  the  politicians  call  it — an  agreement  by  which 
we  shall  all  be  bound,  and  which  we  can  afterwards  ex 
hibit  as  the  basis  of  our  success  ? ' 

"  He  meditated  a  few  moments,  and  then  answered — 

"  '  I  think  not.  It  resembles  too  much  the  thing  we 
are  trying  to  overthrow.  Can  you  bind  a  man's  belief 
by  making  him  sign  certain  articles  of  Faith  ?  No  :  his 
thought  will  be  free,  in  spite  of  it  ;  and  I  would  have  Ac 
tion — Life — as  free  as  Thought.  Our  platform — to  adopt 
your  image — has  but  one  plank  :  Truth.  Let  each  only 
be  true  to  himself:  be  himself,  act  himself,  or  herself  with 
the  uttermost  candor.  We  can  all  agree  upon  that.' 

"  The  agreement  was  accordingly  made.  And  cer 
tainly  no  happier  or  more  hopeful  human  beings  went  to 
bed  in  all  New  England  that  night. 

"  I  arose  with  the  sun,  went  into  the  garden,  and  com 
menced  weeding,  intending  to  do  my  quota  of  work  before 
breakfast,  and  then  devote  the  day  to  reading  and  conver 
sation.  I  was  presently  joined  by  Shelldrake  and  Mai- 
lory,  and  between  us  we  finished  the  onions  and  radishes, 
stuck  the  peas,  and  cleaned  the  alleys.  Perkins,  after 
milking  the  cow  and  turning  her  out  to  pasture,  assisted 
Mrs.  Shelldrake  in  the  kitchen.  At  breakfast  we  were 
joined  by  Hollins,  who  made  no  excuse  for  his  easy  morn 
ing  habits  ;  nor  was  one  expected.  I  may  as  well  tell  you 


2l6  TALES    OF    HOME. 

now,  though,  that  his  natural  instincts  never  led  him  to 
work.  After  a  week,  when  a  second  crop  of  weeds  was 
coming  on,  Mallory  fell  off  also,  and  thenceforth  Shelldrake 
and  myself  had  the  entire  charge  of  the  garden.  Perkins 
did  the  rougher  work,  and  was  always  on  hand  when  he 
was  wanted.  Very  soon,  however,  I  noticed  that  he  was 
in  the  habit  of  disappearing  for  two  or  three  hours  in  the 
afternoon. 

"Our  meals  preserved  the  same  Spartan  simplicity. 
Eunice,  however,  carried  her  point  in  regard  to  the  salad  ; 
for  Abel,  after  tasting  and  finding  it  very  palatable,  de 
cided  that  oil  and  vinegar  might  be  classed  in  the  cata 
logue  of  True  Food.  Indeed,  his  long  abstinence  from 
piquant  flavors  gave  him  such  an  appetite  for  it  that  our 
supply  of  lettuce  was  soon  exhausted.  An  embarrassing 
accident  also  favored  us  with  the  use  of  salt.  Perkins 
happening  to  move  his  knee  at  the  moment  I  was  dipping 
an  onion  into  the  blacking-box  lid,  our  supply  was  knock 
ed  upon  the  floor.  He  picked  it  up,  and  we  both  hoped 
the  accident  might  pass  unnoticed.  But  Abel,  stretching 
his  long  neck  across  the  corner  of  the  table,  caught  a 
glimpse  of  what  was  going  on. 

"< What's  that?'  he  asked. 

" ( Oh,  it's — it's  only,'  said  I,  seeking  for  a  synonyme, 
'only  chloride  of  sodium  /' 

" '  Chloride  of  sodium !  what  do  you  do  with  it  ? ' 

"  '  Eat  it  with  onions,'  said  I,  boldly  :  '  it's  a  chemical 
substance,  but  I  believe  it  is  found  in  some  plants.' 

"Eunice,    who   knew    something   of  chemistry    (she 


THE    EXPERIENCES  OF   THE   A.   C. 


taught  a  class,  though  you  wouldn't  think  it),  grew  red 
with  suppressed  fun,  but  the  others  were  as  ignorant  as 
Abel  Mallory  himself. 

"  '  Let  me  taste  it,'  said  he,  stretching  out  an  onion. 

"I  handed  him  the  box-lid,  which  still  contained  a 
portion  of  its  contents.  He  dipped  the  onion,  bit  off  a 
piece,  and  chewed  it  gravely. 

"  '  AVhy,'  said  he,  turning  to  me,  *  it's  very  much  like 
salt.' 

"  Perkins  burst  into  a  spluttering  yell,  which  discharg 
ed  an  onion-top  he  had  just  put  between  his  teeth  across 
the  table  ;  Eunice  and  I  gave  way  at  the  same  moment  ; 
and  the  others,  catching  the  joke,  joined  us.  But  while 
we  were  laughing,  Abel  was  finishing  his  onion,  and  the 
result  was  that  Salt  was  added  to  the  True  Food,  and 
thereafter  appeared  regularly  on  the  table. 

"  The  forenoons  we  usually  spent  in  reading  and  writ 
ing,  each  in  his  or  her  chamber.  (Oh,  the  journals,  Ned  ! 
—  but  you  shall  not  see  mine.)  After  a  midday  meal,  — 
I  cannot  call  it  dinner,  —  we  sat  upon  the  stoop,  listening 
while  one  of  us  read  aloud,  or  strolled  down  the  shores  on 
either  side,  or,  when  the  sun  was  not  too  warm,  got  into 
a  boat,  and  rowed  or  floated  lazily  around  the  promontory. 

"  One  afternoon,  as  I  was  sauntering  off,  past  the  gar 
den,  towards  the  eastern  inlet,  I  noticed  Perkins  slipping 
along  behind  the  cedar  knobs,  towards  the  little  woodland 
at  the  end  of  our  domain.  Curious  to  find  out  the  cause 
of  his  mysterious  disappearances,  I  followed  cautiously. 
From  the  edge  of  the  wood  I  saw  him  enter  a  little  gap 
10 


218  TALES    OF    HOME. 

between  the  rocks,  which  led  down  to  the  water.  Pres 
ently  a  thread  of  blue  smoke  stole  up.  Quietly  creeping 
along,  I  got  upon  the  nearer  bluff  and  looked  down.  There 
was  a  sort  of  hearth  built  up  at  the  base  of  the  rock,  with 
a  brisk  little  fire  burning  upon  it,  but  Perkins  had  disap 
peared.  I  stretched  myself  out  upon  the  moss,  in  the 
shade,  and  waited.  In  about  half  an  hour  up  came  Per 
kins,  with  a  large  fish  in  one  hand  and  a  lump  of  clay  in 
the  other.  I  now  understood  the  mystery.  He  carefully 
imbedded  the  fish  in  a  thin  layer  of  clay,  placed  it  on  the 
coals,  and  then  went  down  to  the  shore  to  wash  his  hands. 
On  his  return  he  found  me  watching  the  fire. 

" '  Ho,  ho,  Mr.  Enos  ! '  said  he, '  you've  found  me  out ; 
But  you  won't  say  nothin'.  Gosh  !  you  like  it  as  well  I  do. 
Look  'ee  there  ! ' — breaking  open  the  clay,  from  which 
arose  'a  steam  of  rich  distilled  perfumes,' — 'and,  I  say, 
I've  got  the  box-lid  with  that  'ere  stuff  in  it, — ho  !  ho  ! ' 
— and  the  scamp  roared  again. 

"  Out  of  a  hole  in  the  rock  he  brought  salt  and  the  end 
of  a  loaf,  and  between  us  we  finished  the  fish.  Before  long, 
I  got  into  the  habit  of  disappearing  in  the  afternoon. 

"  Now  and  then  we  took  walks,  alone  or  collectively, 
to  the  nearest  village,  or  even  to  Bridgeport,  for  the  papers 
or  a  late  book.  The  few  purchases  we  required  were 
made  at  such  times,  and  sent  down  in  a  cart,  or,  if  not  too 
heavy,  carried  by  Perkins  in  a  basket  I  noticed  that 
Abel,  whenever  we  had  occasion  to  visit  a  grocery,  would 
go  sniffing  around,  alternately  attracted  or  repelled  by  the 
various  articles :  now  turning  away  with  a  shudder  from  a 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.   C.  219 

ham, — now  inhaling,  with  a  fearful  delight  and  uncertain 
ty,  the  odor  of  smoked  herrings.  '  I  think  herrings  must 
feed  on  sea-weed,'  said  he,  '  there  is  such  a  vegetable  at 
traction  about  them.'  After  his  violent  vegetarian  haran 
gues,  however,  he  hesitated  about  adding  them  to  his 
catalogue. 

"  But,  one  day,  as  we  were  passing  through  the  village, 
he  was  reminded  by  the  sign  of 'WARTER  CRACKERS'  in 
the  window  of  an  obscure  grocery  that  he  required  a  sup 
ply  of  these  articles,  and  \ve  therefore  entered.  There 
was  a  splendid  Rhode  Island  cheese  on  the  counter,  from 
which  the  shop-mistress  was  just  cutting  a  slice  for  a  cus 
tomer.  Abel  leaned  over  it,  inhaling  the  rich,  pungent 
fragrance. 

"'Enos,'  said  he  to  me,  between  his  sniffs,  'this  im 
presses  me  like  flowers — like  marigolds.      It  must  be — 
really — yes,  the  vegetable  element  is  predominant.      My 
instinct  towards  it  is  so  strong  that  I  cannot  be  mistaken. 
May  I  taste  it,  ma'am  ? ' 

"  The  woman  sliced  off  a  thin  corner,  and  presented  it 
to  him  on  the  knife. 

" '  Delicious  ! '  he  exclaimed  ;  '  I  am  right, — this  is  the 
True  Food.  Give  me  two  pounds — and  the  crackers, 
ma'am.' 

"  I  turned  away,  quite  as  much  disgusted  as  amused 
with  this  charlatanism.  And  yet  I  verily  believe  the  fellow 
was  sincere — self-deluded  only.  I  had  by  this  time  lost 
my  faith  in  him,  though  not  in  the  great  Arcadian  princi 
ples.  On  reaching  home,  after  an  hour's  walk,  I  found 


220  TALES    OF    HOME. 

our  household  in  unusual  commotion.     Abel  was  writhing 

£5 

in  intense  pain  :  he  had  eaten  the  whole  two  pounds  of 
cheese,  on  his  way  home  !  His  stomach,  so  weakened  by 
years  of  unhealthy  abstinence  from  true  nourishment,  was 
now  terribly  tortured  by  this  sudden  stimulus.  Mrs.  Shell- 
drake,  fortunately,  had  some  mustard  among  her  stores, 
and  could  therefore  administer  a  timely  emetic.  His  life 
was  saved,  but  he  was  very  ill  for  two  or  three  days.  Hol- 
lins  did  not  fail  to  take  advantage  of  this  circumstance  to 
overthrow  the  authority  which  Abel  had  gradually  acquired 
on  the  subject  of  food.  He  was  so  arrogant  in  his  nature 
that  he  could  not  tolerate  the  same  quality  in  another, 
even  where  their  views  coincided. 

"  By  this  time  several  weeks  had  passed  away.  It  was 
the  beginning  of  July,  and  the  long  summer  heats  had 
come.  I  was  driven  out  of  my  attic  during  the  middle  hours 
of  the  day,  and  the  others  found  it  pleasanter  on  the  doubly 
shaded  stoop  than  in  their  chambers.  We  were  thus 
thrown  more  together  than  usual — a  circumstance  which 
made  our  life  more  monotonous  to  the  others,  as  I  could 
see ;  but  to  myself,  who  could  at  last  talk  to  Eunice,  and 
who  was  happy  at  the  very  sight  of  her,  this  '  heated  term' 
seemed  borrowed  from  Elysium.  I  read  aloud,  and  the 
sound  of  my  own  voice  gave  me  confidence ;  many  passa 
ges  suggested  discussions,  in  which  I  took  a  part ;  and  you 
may  judge,  Ned,  how  fast  I  got  on,  from  the  fact  that  I 
ventured  to  tell  Eunice  of  my  fish-bakes  with  Perkins,  and 
invite  her  to  join  them.  After  that,  she  also  often  disap 
peared  from  sight  for  an  hour  or  two  in  the  afternoon." 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.   C.  221 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Johnson,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Billings, 

"  it  wasn't  for  the  fish  !  " 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  her  husband  ;  "  it  was  for  my 
sake." 

"  No,  you  need  not  think  it  was  for  you.  Enos,"  she 
added,  perceiving  the  feminine  dilemma  into  which  she 
had  been  led,  "  all  this  is  not  necessary  to  the  story." 

"  Stop  !  "  he  answered.  "  The  A.  C.  has  been  re 
vived  for  this  night  only.  Do  you  remember  our  plat 
form,  or  rather  no-platform  ?  I  must  follow  my  impulses, 
and  say  whatever  comes  uppermost." 

"  Right,  Enos,"  said  Mr.  Johnson  ;  "  I,  as  temporary 
Arcadian,  take  the  same  ground.  My  instinct  tells  me 
that  you,  Mrs.  Billings,  must  permit  the  confession." 

She  submitted  with  a  good  grace,  and  her  husband 
continued : 

"  I  said  that  our  lazy  life  during  the  hot  weather  had 
become  a  little  monotonous.  The  Arcadian  plan  had 
worked  tolerably  well,  on  the  whole,  for  there  was  very  little 
for  any  one  to  do — Mrs.  Shelldrake  and  Perkins  Brown 
excepted.  Our  conversation,  however,  lacked  spirit  and 
variety.  We  were,  perhaps  unconsciously,  a  little  tired 
of  hearing  and  assenting  to  the  same  sentiments.  But 
one  evening,  about  this  time,  Rollins  struck  upon  a  vari 
ation,  the  consequences  of  which  he  little  foresaw.  We 
had  been  reading  one  of  Bulwer's  works  (the  weather 
was  too  hot  for  Psychology),  and  came  upon  this  para 
graph,  or  something  like  it  : 

"  '  Ah,  Behind  the  Veil  !     We  see  the  summer  smile 


222  TALES    OF    HOME. 

of  the  Earth — enamelled  meadow  and  limpid  stream, — • 
but  what  hides  she  in  her  sunless  heart  ?  Caverns  of  ser 
pents,  or  grottoes  of  priceless  gems  ?  Youth,  whose  soul 
sits  on  thy  countenance,  thyself  wearing  no  mask,  strive 
not  to  lift  the  masks  of  others  !  Be  content  with  what 
thou  seest ;  and  wait  until  Time  and  Experience  shall 
teach  thee  to  find  jealousy  behind  the  sweet  smile,  and 
hatred  under  the  honeyed  word  ! ' 

"  This  seemed  to  us  a  dark  and  bitter  reflection  ;  but 
one  or  another  of  us  recalled  some  illustration  of  human 
hypocrisy,  and  the  evidences,  by  the  simple  fact  of  repeti 
tion,  gradually  led  to  a  division  of  opinion — Hollins, 
Shelldrake,  and  Miss  Ringtop  on  the  dark  side,  and  the 
rest  of  us  on  the  bright.  The  last,  however,  contented 
herself  with  quoting  from  her  favorite  poet,  Gamaliel  J. 
Gawthrop : 

" '  I  look  beyond  thy  brow's  concealment ! 
I  see  thy  spirit's  dark  revealment ! 
Thy  inner  self  betrayed  I  see  : 
Thy  coward,  craven,  shivering  ME  ! ' 

"  *  We  think  we  know  one  another,'  exclaimed  Hol 
lins  ;  '  but  do  we  ?  We  see  the  faults  of  others,  their 
weaknesses,  their  disagreeable  qualities,  and  we  keep 
silent.  How  much  we  should  gain,  were  candor  as  uni 
versal  as  concealment  !  Then  each  one,  seeing  himself 
as  others  see  him,  would  truly  know  himself.  How  much 
misunderstanding  might  be  avoided — how  much  hidden 
shame  be  removed — hopeless,  because  unspoken,  love 
made  glad — honest  admiration  cheer  its  object — uttered 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.    C.  223 

sympathy  mitigate  misfortune — in  short,  how  much  brighter 
and  happier  the  world  would  become  if  each  one  express 
ed,  everywhere  and  at  all  times,  his  true  and  entire  feeling  ! 
Why,  even  Evil  would  lose  half  its  power  ! ' 

"  There  seemed  to  be  so  much  practical  wisdom  in 
these  views  that  we  were  all  dazzled  and  half-convinced 
at  the  start.  So,  when  Hollins,  turning  towards  me,  as 
he  continued,  exclaimed — -'Come,  why  should  not  this 
candor  be  adopted  in  our  Arcadia  ?  Will  any  one — will 
you,  Enos — commence  at  once  by  telling  me  now — to  my 
face — my  principal  faults  ? '  I  answered  after  a  moment's 
reflection — '  You  have  a  great  deal  of  intellectual  arro 
gance,  and  you  are,  physically,  very  indolent' 

"  He  did  not  flinch  from  the  self-invited  test,  though 
he  looked  a  little  surprised. 

"  '  Well  put,'  said  he,  '  though  I  do  not  say  that  you 
are  entirely  correct.  Now,  what  are  my  merits  ? ' 

"'You  are  clear-sighted,'  I  answered,  'an  earnest 
seeker  after  truth,  and  courageous  in  the  avowal  of  your 
thoughts.' 

"  This  restored  the  balance,  and  we  soon  began  to 
confess  our  own  private  faults  and  weaknesses.  Though 
the  confessions  did  not  go  very  deep, — no  one  betraying 
anything  we  did  not  all  know  already, — yet  they  were  suf 
ficient  to  strength  Hollins  in  his  new  idea,  and  it  was 
unanimously  resolved  that  Candor  should  thenceforth  be 
the  main  charm  of  our  Arcadian  life.  It  was  the  very  thing 
/  wanted,  in  order  to  make  a  certain  communication  to 
Eunice  ;  but  I  should  probably  never  have  reached  the 


224  TALES    OF     HOME. 

point,  had  not  the  same  candor  been  exercised  towards 
me,  from  a  quarter  where  I  least  expected  it. 

"  The  next  day,  Abel,  who  had  resumed  his  researches 
after  the  True  Food,  came  home  to  supper  with  a  healthier 
color  than  I  had  before  seen  on  his  face. 

"  '  Do  you  know,'  said  he,  looking  shyly  at  Hollins, 
'  that  I  begin  to  think  Beer  must  be  a  natural  beverage  ? 
There  was  an  auction  in  the  village  to-day,  as  I  passed 
through,  and  I  stopped  at  a  cake-stand  to  get  a  glass  of 
water,  as  it  was  very  hot.  There  was  no  water — only 
beer :  so  I  thought  I  would  try  a  glass,  simply  as  an  ex 
periment.  Really,  the  flavor  was  very  agreeable.  And 
it  occurred  to  me,  on  the  way  home,  that  all  the  elements 
contained  in  beer  are  vegetable.  Besides,  fermentation 
is  a  natural  process.  I  think  the  question  has  never  been 
properly  tested  before.' 

"  '  But  the  alcohol  ! '  exclaimed  Hollins. 

"  *  I  could  not  distinguish  any,  either  by  taste  or  smell. 
I  know  that  chemical  analysis  is  said  to  show  it ;  but  may 
not  the  alcohol  be  created,  somehow,  during  the  analysis? ' 

"  '  Abel,'  said  Hollins,  in  a  fresh  burst  of  candor, 
'you  will  never  be  a  Reformer,  until  you  possess  some  of 
the  commonest  elements  of  knowledge.' 

"  The  rest  of  us  were  much  diverted :  it  was  a  pleasant 
relief  to  our  monotonous  amiability. 

"  Abel,  however,  had  a  stubborn  streak  in  his  charac 
ter.  The  next  day  he  sent  Perkins  Brown  to  Bridgeport 
for  a  dozen  bottles  of  '  Beer.'  Perkins,  either  intention 
ally  or  by  mistake,  (I  always  suspected  the  former,) 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.   C.  22$ 

brought  pint-bottles  of  Scotch  ale,  which  he  placed  in  the 
coolest  part  of  the  cellar.  The  evening  happened  to  be 
exceedingly  hot  and  sultry,  and,  as  we  were  all  fanning 
ourselves  and  talking  languidly,  Abel  bethought  him  of 
his  beer.  In  his  thirst,  he  drank  the  contents  of  the  first 
bottle,  almost  at  a  single  draught. 

"'The  effect  of  beer,'  said  he,  ' depends,  I  think,  on 
the  commixture  of  the  nourishing  principle  of  the  grain 
with  the  cooling  properties  of  the  water.  Perhaps,  here 
after,  a  liquid  food  of  the  same  character  may  be  invented, 
which  shall  save  us  from  mastication  and  all  the  diseases 
of  the  teeth.' 

"  Hollins  and  Shelldrake,  at  his  invitation,  divided  a 
bottle  between  them,  and  he  took  a  second.  The  potent 
beverage  was  not  long  in  acting  on  a  brain  so  unaccus 
tomed  to  its  influence.  He  grew  unusually  talkative  and 
sentimental,  in  a  few  minutes. 

"  '  Oh,  sing,  somebody  ! '  he  sighed  in  a  hoarse  rap 
ture  :  'the  night  was  made  for  Song.' 

"  Miss  Ringtop,  nothing  loath,  immediately  commen 
ced,  '  When  stars  are  in  the  quiet  skies ; '  but  scarcely 
had  she  finished  the  first  verse  before  Abel  interrupted 
her. 

" ' Candor's  the  order  of  the  day,  isn't  it? '  he  asked. 

"  *  Yes  ! '  '  Yes  ! '  two  or  three  answered. 

"  *  Well  then,'  said  he,  *  candidly,  Pauline,  you've  got 
the  darn'dest  squeaky  voice  ' — 

"  Miss  Ringtop  gave  a  faint  little  scream  of  horror. 

"  '  Oh,  never  mind  ! '  he  continued.  '  We  act  according 
10* 


226  TALES    OF    HOME. 

to  impulse,  don't  we  ?  And  I've  the  impulse  to  swear  ; 
and  it's  right.  Let  Nature  have  her  way.  Listen ! 
Damn,  damn,  damn,  damn !  I  never  knew  it  was  so 
easy.  Why,  there's  a  pleasure  in  it !  Try  it,  Pauline  !  try 
it  on  me  ! ' 

"  '  Oh-ooh  ! '  was  all  Miss  Ringtop  could  utter. 

"'Abel!  Abel!'  exclaimed  Hollins,  'the  beer  has 
got  into  your  head.' 

"  '  No,  it  isn't  Beer,— it's  Candor! '  said  Abel.  <  It's 
your  own  proposal,  Hollins.  Suppose  it's  evil  to  swear  : 
isn't  it  better  I  should  express  it,  and  be  done  with  it, 
than  keep  it  bottled  up  to  ferment  in  my  mind  ?  Oh, 
you're  a  precious,  consistent  old  humbug,  you  are  !  ' 

"  And  therewith  he  jumped  off  the  stoop,  and  went 
dancing  awkwardly  down  towards  the  water,  singing  in  a 
most  unmelodious  voice,  '  'Tis  home  where'er  the  heart 
is.' 

" '  Oh,  he  may  fall  into  the  water ! '  exclaimed  Eunice, 
in  alarm. 

" '  He's  not  fool  enough  to  do  that,'  said  Shelldrake. 
1  His  head  is  a  little  light,  that's  all.  The  air  will  cool 
him  down  presently.' 

But  she  arose  and  followed  him,  not  satisfied  with  this 
assurance.  Miss  Ringtop  sat  rigidly  still.  She  would 
have  received  with  composure  the  news  of  his  drowning. 

"  As  Eunice's  white  dress  disappeared  among  the  ce 
dars  crowning  the  shore,  I  sprang  up  and  ran  after  her. 
I  knew  that  Abel  was  not  intoxicated,  but  simply  excited, 
and  I  had  no  fear  on  his  account :  I  obeyed  an  involun- 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.   C.  22/ 

tary  impulse.  On  approaching  the  water,  I  heard  their 
voices — hers  in  friendly  persuasion,  his  in  sentimental 
entreaty, — then  the  sound  of  oars  in  the  row-locks.  Look 
ing  out  from  the  last  clump  of  cedars,  I  saw  them  seated 
in  the  boat,  Eunice  at  the  stern,  while  Abel,  facing  her, 
just  dipped  an  oar  now  and  then  to  keep  from  drifting 
with  the  tide.  She  had  found  him  already  in  the  boat, 
which  was  loosely  chained  to  a  stone.  Stepping  on  one 
of  the  forward  thwarts  in  her  eagerness  to  persuade  him 
to  return,  he  sprang  past  her,  jerked  away  the  chain,  and 
pushed  off  before  she  could  escape.  She  would  have 
fallen,  but  he  caught  her  and  placed  her  in  the  stern,  and 
then  seated  himself  at  the  oars.  She  must  have  been  some 
what  alarmed,  but  there  was  only  indignation  in  her  voice. 
All  this  had  transpired  before  my  arrival,  and  the  first  words 
I  heard  bound  me  to  the  spot  and  kept  me  silent. 

" '  Abel,  what  does  this  mean  ? '  she  asked. 

" '  It  means  Fate — Destiny  ! '  he  exclaimed,  rather 
wildly.  '  Ah,  Eunice,  ask  the  night,  and  the  moon, — ask 
the  impulse  which  told  you  to  follow  me  !  Let  us  be  can 
did  like  the  old  Arcadians  we  imitate.  Eunice,  we  know 
that  we  love  each  other :  why  should  we  conceal  it  any 
longer  ?  The  Angel  of  Love  comes  down  from  the  stars 
on  his  azure  wings,  and  whispers  to  our  hearts.  Let  us 
confess  to  each  other  !  The  female  heart  should  not  be 
timid,  in  this  pure  and  beautiful  atmosphere  of  Love 
which  we  breathe.  Come,  Eunice  !  we  are  alone :  let 
your  heart  speak  to  me  ! ' 

"  Ned,  if  you've  ever  been  in  love,  (we'll  talk  of  that 


228  TALES    OF   HOME. 

after  a  while,)  you  will  easily  understand  what  tortures  I 
endured,  in  thus  hearing  him  speak.  That  he  should  love 
Eunice  !  It  was  a  profanation  to  her,  an  outrage  to  me. 
Yet  the  assurance  with  which  he  spoke  !  Could  she  love 
this  conceited,  ridiculous,  repulsive  fellow,  after  all  ?  I 
almost  gasped  for  breath,  as  I  clinched  the  prickly  boughs 
of  the  cedars  in  my  hands,  and  set  my  teeth,  waiting  to 
hear  her  answer. 

" '  I  will  not  hear  such  language  !  Take  me  back  to 
the  shore ! '  she  said,  in  very  short,  decided  tones. 

"  '  Oh,  Eunice,'  he  groaned,  (and  now,  I  think  he  was 
perfectly  sober,)  '  don't  you  love  me,  indeed  ?  /  love  you, 
— from  my  heart  I  do  :  yes,  I  love  you.  Tell  me  how 
you  feel  towards  me.' 

"  *  Abel,'  said  she,  earnestly,  '  I  feel  towards  you  only 
as  a  friend ;  and  if  you  wish  me  to  retain  a  friendly  inter 
est  in  you,  you  must  never  again  talk  in  this  manner.  I 
do  not  love  you,  and  I  never  shall.  Let  me  go  back  to 
the  house.' 

"  His  head  dropped  upon  his  breast,  but  he  rowed  back 
to  the  shore,  drew  the  bow  upon  the  rocks,  and  assisted 
her  to  land.  Then,  sitting  down,  he  groaned  forth — 

" '  Oh,  Eunice,  you  have  broken  my  heart ! '  and  put 
ting  his  big  hands  to  his  face,  began  to  cry. 

"  She  turned,  placed  one  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and 
said  in  a  calm,  but  kind  tone — 

"  '  I  am  very  sorry,  Abel,  but  I  cannot  help  it.' 

"  I  slipped  aside,  that  she  might  not  see  me,  and  we 
returned  by  separate  paths. 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.   C.  22Q 

"  I  slept  very  little  that  night.  The  conviction  which 
I  chased  away  from  my  mind  as  often  as  it  returned,  that 
our  Arcadian  experiment  was  taking  a  ridiculous  and  at 
the  same  time  impracticable  development,  became  clearer 
and  stronger.  I  felt  sure  that  our  little  community  could 
not  hold  together  much  longer  without  an  explosion.  I 
had  a  presentiment  that  Eunice  shared  my  impressions. 
My  feelings  towards  her  had  reached  that  crisis  where  a 
declaration  was  imperative :  but  how  to  make  it  ?  It  was 
a  terrible  struggle  between  my  shyness  and  my  affection. 
There  was  another  circumstance  in  connection  with  this 
subject,  which  troubled  me  not  a  little.  Miss  Ringtop 
evidently  sought  my  company,  and  made  me,  as  much  as 
possible,  the  recipient  of  her  sentimental  outpourings.  I 
was  not  bold  enough  to  repel  her — indeed  I  had  none  of 
that  tact  which  is  so  useful  in  such  emergencies, — and  she 
seemed  to  misinterpret  my  submission.  Not  only  was 
her  conversation  pointedly  directed  to  me,  but  she  looked 
at  me,  when  singing,  (especially,  '  Thou,  thou,  reign'st  in 
this  bosom  ! ')  in  a  way  that  made  me  feel  very  uncom 
fortable.  What  if  Eunice  should  suspect  an  attachment 
towards  her,  on  my  part.  What  if — oh,  horror  ! — I  had 
unconsciously  said  or  done  something  to  impress  Miss 
Ringtop  herself  with  the  same  conviction  ?  I  shuddered 
as  the  thought  crossed  my  mind.  One  thing  was  very 
certain  :  this  suspense  was  not  to  be  endured  much 
longer. 

"  We  had  an  unusually  silent  breakfast  the  next  morn 
ing.  Abel  scarcely  spoke,  which  the  others  attributed  to 


230  TALES    OF    HOME. 

a  natural  feeling  of  shame,  after  his  display  of  the  pre 
vious  evening.  Hollins  and  Shelldrake  discussed  Tem 
perance,  with  a  special  view  to  his  edification,  and  Miss 
Ringtop  favored  us  with  several  quotations  about  'the 
maddening  bowl,' — but  he  paid  no  attention  to  them. 
Eunice  was  pale  and  thoughtful.  I  had  no  doubt  in  my 
mind,  that  she  was  already  contemplating  a  removal  from 
Arcadia.  Perkins,  whose  perceptive  faculties  were  by  no 
means  dull,  whispered  to  me,  *  Shan't  I  bring  up  some 
porgies  for  supper  ? '  but  I  shook  my  head.  I  was  busy 
with  other  thoughts,  and  did  not  join  him  in  the  wood, 
that  day. 

"The  forenoon  was  overcast,  with  frequent  showers. 
Each  one  occupied  his  or  her  room  until  dinner-time, 
when  we  met  again  with  something  of  the  old  geniality. 
There  was  an  evident  effort  to  restore  our  former  flow  of 
good  feeling.  Abel's  experience  with  the  beer  was  freely 
discussed.  He  insisted  strongly  that  he  had  not  been 
laboring  under  its  effects,  and  proposed  a  mutual  test.  He, 
Shelldrake,  and  Hollins  were  to  drink  it  in  equal  meas 
ures,  and  compare  observations  as  to  their  physical  sensa 
tions.  The  others  agreed, — quite  willingly,  I  thought, — 
but  I  refused.  I  had  determined  to  make  a  desperate  at 
tempt  at  candor,  and  Abel's  fate  was  fresh  before  my 
eyes. 

"  My  nervous  agitation  increased  during  the  day,  and 
after  sunset,  fearing  lest  I  should  betray  my  excitement 
in  some  way,  I  walked  down  to  the  end  of  the  promon 
tory,  and  took  a  seat  on  the  rocks.  The  sky  had  cleared, 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.    C.  231 

and  the  air  was  deliriously  cool  and  sweet.  The  Sound 
was  spread  out  before  me  like  a  sea,  for  the  Long  Island 
shore  was  veiled  in  a  silvery  mist.  My  mind  was  soothed 
and  calmed  by  the  influences  of  the  scene,  until  the  moon 
arose.  Moonlight,  you  know,  disturbs — at  least,  when 
one  is  in  love.  (Ah,  Ned,  I  see  you  understand  it !)  I 
felt  blissfully  miserable,  ready  to  cry  with  joy  at  the 
knowledge  that  I  loved,  and  with  fear  and  vexation  at  my 
cowardice,  at  the  same  time. 

"  Suddenly  I  heard  a  rustling  beside  me.  Every  nerve 
in  my  body  tingled,  and  I  turned  my  head,  with  a  beating 
and  expectant  heart.  Pshaw !  It  was  Miss  Ringtop, 
who  spread  her  blue  dress  on  the  rock  beside  me,  and 
shook  back  her  long  curls,  and  sighed,  as  she  gazed  at  the 
silver  path  of  the  moon  on  the  water. 

"  '  Oh,  how  delicious  ! '  she  cried.  '  How  it  seems  to 
set  the  spirit  free,  and  we  wander  off  on  the  wings  of 
Fancy  to  other  spheres  ! ' 

" '  Yes,'  said  I,  '  It  is  very  beautiful,  but  sad,  when  one 
is  alone.' 

"  I  was  thinking  of  Eunice. 

" '  How  inadequate,'  she  continued, ' is  language  to  ex 
press  the  emotions  which  such  a  scene  calls  up  in  the 
bosom  !  Poetry  alone  is  the  voice  of  the  spiritual  world, 
and  we,  who  are  not  poets,  must  borrow  the  language  of 
the  gifted  sons  of  Song.  Oh,  Enos,  I  wish  you  were  a 
poet !  But  you  ^/poetry,  I  know  you  do.  I  have  seen 
it  in  your  eyes,  when  I  quoted  the  burning  lines  of  Adeli- 
za  Kelley,  or  the  soul -breathings  of  Gamaliel  J.  Gawthrop. 


232  TALES    OF    HOME. 

In  him,  particularly,  I  find  the  voice  of  my  own  nature. 
Do  you  know  his  '  Night-Whispers  ? '  How  it  embodies 
the  feelings  of  such  a  scene  as  this !  - 

' '  Star-drooping  bowers  bending  down  the  spaces, 

And  moonlit  glories  sweep  star- footed  on  ; 

And  pale,  sweet  rivers,  in  their  shining  races, 

Are  ever  gliding  through  the  moonlit  places, 

With  silver  ripples  on  their  tranced  faces, 
And  forests  clasp  their  dusky  hands,  with  low  and  sullen 
moan  ! ' 

" '  Ah  ! '  she  continued,  as  I  made  no  reply,  '  this  is  an 
hour  for  the  soul  to  unveil  its  most  secret  chambers ! 
Do  you  not  think,  Enos,  that  love  rises  superior  to  all 
conventionalities?  that  those  whose  souls  are  in  unison 
should  be  allowed  to  reveal  themselves  to  each  other,  re 
gardless  of  the  world's  opinions  ? ' 

"  *  Yes  ! '  said  I,  earnestly. 

" '  Enos,  do  you  understand  me  ? '  she  asked,  in  a  ten 
der  voice — almost  a  whisper. 

" '  Yes,'  said  I,  with  a  blushing  confidence  of  my  own 
passion. 

" '  Then,'  she  whispered,  '  our  hearts  are  wholly  in  uni 
son.  I  know  you  are  true,  Enos.  I  know  your  noble  na 
ture,  and  I  will  never  doubt  you.  This  is  indeed  happi 
ness  ! ' 

"And  therewith  she  laid  her  head  on  my  shoulder, 
and  sighed — 

"  '  Life  remits  his  tortures  cruel, 
Love  illumes  his  fairest  fuel, 
When  the  hearts  that  once  were  dual 
Meet  as  one,  in  sweet  renewal  ! ' 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE   A.   C.  233 

" '  Miss  Ringtop  !  '  I  cried,  starting  away  from  her,  in 
alarm,  '  you  don't  mean  that — that — 

"  I  could  not  finish  the  sentence. 

"  '  Yes,  Enos,  dear  Enos !  henceforth  we  belong  to 
each  other.' 

"  The  painful  embarrassment  I  felt,  as  her  true  mean 
ing  shot  through  my  mind,  surpassed  anything  I  had  im 
agined,  or  experienced  in  anticipation,  when  planning  how 
I  should  declare  myself  to  Eunice.  Miss  Ringtop  was  at 
least  ten  years  older  than  I,  far  from  handsome  (but  you 
remember  her  face,)  and  so  affectedly  sentimental,  that  I, 
sentimental  as  I  was  then,  was  sick  of  hearing  her  talk. 
Her  hallucination  was  so  monstrous,  and  gave  me  such  a 
shock  of  desperate  alarm,  that  I  spoke,  on  the  impulse  of 
the  moment,  with  great  energy,  without  regarding  how  her 
feelings  might  be  wounded. 

"  '  You  mistake  ! '  I  exclaimed.  '  I  didn't  mean  that, 
— I  didn't  understand  you.  Don't  talk  to  me  that  way, 
— don't  look  at  me  in  that  way,  Miss  Ringtop  !  We  were 

never   meant   for    each   other — I    wasn't You're    so 

much  older — I  mean  different.  It  can't  be — no,  it  can 
never  be  !  Let  us  go  back  to  the  house :  the  night  is 
cold. ' 

"  I  rose  hastily  to  my  feet.  She  murmured  something, 
—what,  I  did  not  stay  to  hear, — but,  plunging  through 
the  cedars,  was  hurrying  with  all  speed  to  the  house,  when, 
half-way  up  the  lawn,  beside  one  of  the  rocky  knobs,  I 
met  Eunice,  who  was  apparently  on  her  way  to  join  us. 
In  my  excited  mood,  after  the  ordeal  through  which  I  had 


234  TALES    OF    HOME. 

just  passed,  everything  seemed  easy.  My  usual  timidity 
was  blown  to  the  four  winds.  I  went  directly  to  her,  took 
her  hand,  and  said — 

" '  Eunice,  the  others  are  driving  me  mad  with  their 
candor ;  will  you  let  me  be  candid,  too  ? ' 

" '  I  think  you  are  always  candid,  Enos,'  she  an 
swered. 

"  Even  then,  if  I  had  hesitated,  I  should  have  been 
lost.  But  I  went  on,  without  pausing — 

u '  Eunice,  I  love  you — I  have  loved  you  since  we  first 
met.  I  came  here  that  I  might  be  near  you ;  but  I  must 
leave  you  forever,  and  to-night,  unless  you  can  trust  your 
life  in  my  keeping.  God  help  me,  since  we  have  been  to 
gether  I  have  lost  my  faith  in  almost  everything  but  you. 
Pardon  me,  if  I  am  impetuous — different  from  what  I 
have  seemed.  I  have  struggled  so  hard  to  speak  !  I  have 
been  a  coward,  Eunice,  because  of  my  love.  But  now  I 
have  spoken,  from  my  heart  of  hearts.  Look  at  me :  I 
can  bear  it  now.  Read  the  truth  in  my  eyes,  before  you 
answer.' 

"  I  felt  her  hand  tremble  while  I  spoke.  As  she 
turned  towards  me  her  face,  which  had  been  averted,  the 
moon  shone  full  upon  it,  and  I  saw  that  tears  were  upon 
her  cheeks.  What  was  said — whether  anything  was  said 
— I  cannot,  tell.  I  felt  the  blessed  fact,  and  that  was 
enough.  That  was  the  dawning  of  the  true  Arcadia." 

Mrs.  Billings,  who  had  been  silent  during  this  re 
cital,  took  her  husband's  hand  and  smiled.  Mr.  Johnson 
felt  a  dull  pang  about  the  region  of  his  heart.  If  he  had 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.   C.  23$ 

a  secret,  however,  I  do  not  feel  justified  in  betray 
ing  it. 

"  It  was  late,"  Mr.  Billings  continued,  "  before  we  re 
turned  to  the  house.  I  had  a  special  dread  of  again  en 
countering  Miss  Ringtop,  but  she  was  wandering  up  and 
down  the  bluff,  under  the  pines,  singing,  '  The  dream  is 
past.'  There  was  a  sound  of  loud  voices,  as  we  approach 
ed  the  stoop.  Hollins,  Shelldrake  and  his  wife,  and  Abel 
Mallory  were  sitting  together  near  the  door.  Perkins 
Brown,  as  usual,  was  crouched  on  the  lowest  step,  with  one 
leg  over  the  other,  and  rubbing  the  top  of  his  boot  with  a 
vigor  which  betrayed  to  me  some  secret  mirth.  He  look 
ed  up  at  me  from  under  his  straw  hat  with  the  grin  of  a 
malicious  Puck,  glanced  towards  the  group,  and  made  a 
curious  gesture  with  his  thumb.  There  were  several 
empty  pint-bottles  on  the  stoop. 

" '  Now,  are  you  sure  you  can  bear  the  test  ? '  we  heard 
Hollins  ask,  as  we  approached. 

" '  Bear  it  ?  Why  to  be  sure  ! '  replied  Shelldrake  ;  '  if 
I  couldn't  bear  it,  or  if  you  couldn't,  your  theory's  done 
for.  Try  !  I  can  stand  it  as  long  as  you  can.' 

"  *  Well,  then,'  said  Hollins,  '  1  think  you  are  a  very 
ordinary  man.  I  derive  no  intellectual  benefit  from  my 
intercourse  with  you,  but  your  house  is  convenient  to  me. 
I'm  under  no  obligations  for  your  hospitality,  however, 
because  my  company  is  an  advantage  to  you.  Indeed  if 
I  were  treated  according  to  my  deserts,  you  couldn't  do 
enough  for  me.' 

"  Mrs.  Shelldrake  was  up  in  arms. 


236  TALES    OF    HOME. 

"'Indeed,'  she  exclaimed,  'I  think  you  get  as  good 
as  you  deserve,  and  more  too.' 

"  '  Elvira,'  said  he,  with  a  benevolent  condescension, 
'  I  have  no  doubt  you  think  so,  for  your  mind  belongs  to 
the  lowest  and  most  material  sphere.  You  have  your 
place  in  Nature,  and  you  fill  it ;  but  it  is  not  for  you  to 
judge  of  intelligences  which  move  only  on  the  upper 
planes.' 

"  '  Hollins,'  said  Shelldrake,  '  Elviry's  a  good  wife 
and  a  sensible  woman,  and  I  won't  allow  you  to  turn  up 
your  nose  at  her.' 

"  '  I  am  not  surprised/  he  answered,  '  that  you  should 
fail  to  stand  the  test.  I  didn't  expect  it.' 

" '  Let  me  try  it  on  you  \  '  cried  Shelldrake.  '  You, 
now,  have  some  intellect, — I  don't  deny  that, — but  not  so 
much,  by  a  long  shot,  as  you  think  you  have.  Besides 
that,  you're  awfully  selfish  in  your  opinions.  You  won't 
admit  that  anybody  can  be  right  who  differs  from  you. 
You've  sponged  on  me  for  a  long  time ;  but  I  suppose  I've 
learned  something  from  you,  so  we'll  call  it  even.  I  think, 
however,  that  what  you  call  acting  according  to  impulse  is 
simply  an  excuse  to  cover  your  own  laziness.' 

"  '  Gosh  !  that's  it ! '  interrupted  Perkins,  jumping  up  ; 
then,  recollecting  himself,  he  sank  down  on  the  steps 
again,  and  shook  with  a  suppressed  '  Ho  !  ho  !  ho  ! ' 

"  Hollins,  however,  drew  himself  up  with  an  exasper 
ated  air. 

"  *  Shelldrake,'  said  he,  '  I  pity  you.  I  always  knew 
your  ignorance,  but  I  thought  you  honest  in  your  human 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE    A.   C.  237 

character.  I  never  suspected  you  of  envy  and  malice. 
However,  the  true  Reformer  must  expect  to  be  misunder 
stood  and  misrepresented  by  meaner  minds.  That  love 
which  I  bear  to  all  creatures  teaches  me  to  forgive  you. 
Without  such  love,  all  plans  of  progress  must  fail.  Is  it 
not  so,  Abel  ? ' 

"  Shelldrake  could  only  ejaculate  the  words,  '  Pity  ! ' 
'  Forgive  ? '  in  his  most  contemptuous  tone  ;  while  Mrs. 
Shelldrake,  rocking  violently  in  her  chair,  gave  utterance 
to  that  peculiar  clucking,  '  tst  ts,  ts,  /j,'  whereby  certain 
women  express  emotions  too  deep  for  words. 

"  Abel,  roused  by  Hollins's  question,  answered,  with 
a  sudden  energy — 

"  '  Love  !  there  is  no  love  in  the  world.  Where  will 
you  find  it?  Tell  me,  and  I'll  go  there.  Love  !  I'd  like 
to  see  it !  If  all  human  hearts  were  like  mine,  we  might 
have  an  Arcadia  ;  but  most  men  have  no  hearts.  The 
world  is  a  miserable,  hollow,  deceitful  shell  of  vanity  and 
hypocrisy.  No  :  let  us  give  up.  We  were  born  before 
our  time  :  this  age  is  not  worthy  of  us.' 

"  Hollins  stared  at  the  speaker  in  utter  amazement. 
Shelldrake  gave  a  long  whistle,  and  finally  gasped  out — 

"  '  Well,  what  next  ? ' 

"  None  of  us  were  prepared  for  such  a  sudden  and 
complete  wreck  of  our  Arcadian  scheme.  The  founda 
tions  had  been  sapped  before,  it  is  true ;  but  we  had  not 
perceived  it ;  and  now,  in  two  short  days,  the  whole  edi 
fice  tumbled  about  our  ears.  Though  it  was  inevitable, 
we  felt  a  shock  of  sorrow,  and  a  silence  fell  upon  us. 


238  TALES    OF    HOME. 

Only  that  scamp  of  a  Perkins  Brown,  chuckling  and  rub 
bing  his  boot,  really  rejoiced.  I  could  have  kicked  him. 

"  We  all  went  to  bed,  feeling  that  the  charm  of  our  Ar 
cadian  life  was  over.  I  was  so  full  of  the  new  happiness 
of  love  that  I  was  scarcely  conscious  of  regret.  I  seemed 
to  have  leaped  at  once  into  responsible  manhood,  and  a 
glad  rush  of  courage  filled  me  at  the  knowledge  that  my 
own  heart  was  a  better  oracle  than  those — now  so  shame 
fully  overthrown — on  whom  I  had  so  long  implicitly  relied. 
In  the  first  revulsion  of  feeling,  I  was  perhaps  unjust  to 
my  associates.  I  see  now,  more  clearly,  the  causes  of 
those  vagaries,  which  originated  in  a  genuine  aspiration, 
and  failed  from  an  ignorance  of  the  true  nature  of  Man, 
quite  as  much  as  from  the  egotism  of  the  individuals. 
Other  attempts  at  reorganizing  Society  were  made  about 
the  same  time  by  men  of  culture  and  experience,  but  in 
the  A.  C.  we  had  neither.  Our  leaders  had  caught  a  few 
half-truths,  which,  in  their  minds,  were  speedily  warped 
into  errors.  I  can  laugh  over  the  absurdities  I  helped  to 
perpetrate,  but  I  must  confess  that  the  experiences  of 
those  few  weeks  went  far  towards  making  a  man  of  me." 

"  Did  the  A.  C.  break  up  at  once  ? "  asked  Mr.  John 
son. 

"  Not  precisely ;  though  Eunice  and  I  left  the  house 
within  two  days,  as  we  had  agreed.  We  were  not  married 
immediately,  however.  Three  long  years — years  of  hope 
and  mutual  encouragement — passed  away  before  that  hap 
py  consummation.  Before  our  departure,  Hollins  had 
fallen  into  his  old  manner,  convinced,  apparently,  that 


THE    EXPERIENCES    OF    THE  A.    C.  239 

Candor  must  be  postponed  to  a  better  age  of  the  world. 
But  the  quarrel  rankled  in  Shelldrake's  mind,  and  espe 
cially  in  that  of  his  wife.  I  could  see  by  her  looks  and 
little  fidgety  ways  that  his  further  stay  would  be  very  un 
comfortable.  Abel  Mallory,  finding  himself  gaining  in 
weight  and  improving  in  color,  had  no  thought  of  return 
ing.  The  day  previous,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  he  had 
discovered  Perkins  Brown's  secret  kitchen  in  the  woods. 

"  '  Golly  !  '  said  that  youth,  in  describing  the  circum 
stance  to  me,  '  I  had  to  ketch  two  porgies  that  day.' 

"  Miss  Ringtop,  who  must  have  suspected  the  new  re 
lation  between  Eunice  and  myself,  was  for  the  most  part 
rigidly  silent.  If  she  quoted,  it  was  from  the  darkest  and 
dreariest  utterances  of  her  favorite  Gamaliel. 

"  What  happened  after  our  departure  I  learned  from 
Perkins,  on  the  return  of  the  Shelldrakes  to  Norridge- 
port,  in  September.  Mrs.  Shelldrake  stoutly  persisted  in 
refusing  to  make  Hollins's  bed,  or  to  wash  his  shirts.  Her 
brain  was  dull,  to  be  sure  ;  but  she  was  therefore  all  the 
more  stubborn  in  her  resentment.  He  bore  this  state  of 
things  for  about  a  week,  when  his  engagements  to  lecture 
in  Ohio  suddenly  called  him  away.  Abel  and  Miss  Ring- 
top  were  left  to  wander  about  the  promontory  in  company, 
and  to  exchange  lamentations  on  the  hollowness  of  human 
hopes  or  the  pleasures  of  despair.  Whether  it  was  owing 
to  that  attraction  of  sex  which  would  make  any  man  and 
any  woman,  thrown  together  on  a  desert  island,  finally  be 
come  mates,  or  whether  she  skilfully  ministered  to  Abel's 
sentimental  vanity,  I  will  not  undertake  to  decide  :  but 


240  TALES    OF    HOME. 

the  fact  is,  they  were  actually  betrothed,  on  leaving  Arca 
dia.  I  think  he  would  willingly  have  retreated,  after  his 
return  to  the  world  ;  but  that  was  not  so  easy.  Miss 
Ringtop  held  him  with  an  inexorable  clutch.  They  were 
not  married,  however,  until  just  before  his  departure  for 
California,  whither  she  afterwards  followed  him.  She 
died  in  less  than  a  year,  and  left  him  free." 

"  And  what  became  of  the  other  Arcadians  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Johnson. 

"The  Shelldrakes  are  still  living  in  Norridgeport 
They  have  become  Spiritualists,  I  understand,  and  culti 
vate  Mediums.  Hollins,  when  I  last  heard  of  him,  was  a 
Deputy-Surveyor  in  the  New  York  Custom-House.  Per 
kins  Brown  is  our  butcher  here  in  Waterbury,  and  he  often 
asks  me — '  Do  you  take  chloride  of  soda  on  your  beef 
steaks  ? '  He  is  as  fat  as  a  prize  ox,  and  the  father  of  five 
children."' 

"  Enos  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Billings,  looking  at  the 
clock,  "  it's  nearly  midnight !  Mr.  Johnson  must  be  very 
tired,  after  such  a  long  story.  The  Chapter  of  the  A.  C. 
is  hereby  closed !  " 


FRIEND  ELI'S  DAUGHTER. 


I. 


HE  mild  May  afternoon  was  draw 
ing  to  a  close,  as  Friend  Eli  Mitch- 
enor  reached  the  top  of  the  long 
hill,  and  halted  a  few  minutes,  to 
allow  his  horse  time  to  recover 
breath.  He  also  heaved  a  sigh  of 
satisfaction,  as  he  saw  again  the  green,  undulating  val 
ley  of  the  Neshaminy,  with  its  dazzling  squares  of 
young  wheat,  its  brown  patches  of  corn-land,  its  snowy 
masses  of  blooming  orchard,  and  the  huge,  fountain- 
like  jets  of  weeping  willow,  half  concealing  the  gray 
stone  fronts  of  the  farm-houses.  He  had  been  ab 
sent  from  home  only  six  days,  but  the  time  seemed  almost 
as  long  to  him  as  a  three  years'  cruise  to  a  New  Bedford 
whaleman.  The  peaceful  seclusion  and  pastoral  beauty 
of  the  scene  did  not  consciously  appeal  to  his  senses  ;  but 
he  quietly  noted  how  much  the  wheat  had  grown  during 
his  absence,  that  the  oats  were  up  and  looking  well,  that 
Friend  Comly's  meadow  had  been  ploughed,  and  Friend 
Martin  had  built  his  half  of  the  line-fence  along  the  top 
of  the  hill-field.  If  any  smothered  delight  in  the  loveliness 
ii 


243  TALES    OF    HOME. 

of  the  spring-time  found  a  hiding-place  anywhere  in  the 
well-ordered  chambers  of  his  heart,  it  never  relaxed  or 
softened  the  straight,  inflexible  lines  of  his  face.  As  eas 
ily  could  his  collarless  drab  coat  and  waistcoat  have 
flushed  with  a  sudden  gleam  of  purple  or  crimson. 

Eli  Mitchenor  was  at  peace  with  himself  and  the 
world — that  is,  so  much  of  the  world  as  he  acknowl 
edged.  Beyond  the  community  of  his  own  sect,  and 
a  few  personal  friends  who  were  privileged  to  live 
on  its  borders,  he  neither  knew  nor  cared  to  know 
much  more  of  the  human  race  than  if  it  belonged  to  a 
planet  farther  from  the  sun.  In  the  discipline  of  the 
Friends  he  was  perfect ;  he  was  privileged  to  sit  on  the 
high  seats,  with  the  elders  of  the  Society ;  and  the  trav 
elling  brethren  from  other  States,  who  visited  Bucks 
County,  invariably  blessed  his  house  with  a  family-meet 
ing.  His  farm  was  one  of  the  best  on  the  banks  of  the 
Neshaminy,  and  he  also  enjoyed  the  annual  interest  of  a 
few  thousand  dollars,  carefully  secured  by  mortgages  on 
real  estate.  His  wife,  Abigail,  kept  even  pace  with  him 
in  the  consideration  she  enjoyed  within  the  limits  of  the 
sect ;  and  his  two  children,  Moses  and  Asenath,  vindicated 
the  paternal  training  by  the  strictest  sobriety  of  dress  and 
conduct.  Moses  wore  the  plain  coat,  even  when  his  ways 
led  him  among  "  the  world's  people  ;  "  and  Asenath  had 
never  been  known  to  wear,  or  to  express  a  desire  for,  a 
ribbon  of  a  brighter  tint  than  brown  or  fawn-color.  Friend 
Mitchenor  had  thus  gradually  ripened  to  his  sixtieth  year 
in  an  atmosphere  of  life  utterly  placid  and  serene,  and 


FRIEND    ELI  S    DAUGHTER.  243 

looked  forward  with  confidence  to  the  final  change,  as  a 
translation  into  a  deeper  calm,  a  serener  quiet,  a  prosper 
ous  eternity  of  mild  voices,  subdued  colors,  and  suppressed 
emotions. 

He  was  returning  home,  in  his  own  old-fashioned 
"  chair,"  with  its  heavy  square  canopy  and  huge  curved 
springs,  from  the  Yearly  Meeting  of  the  Hicksite  Friends, 
in  Philadelphia.  The  large  bay  farm-horse,  slow  and 
grave  in  his  demeanor,  wore  his  plain  harness  with  an  air 
which  made  him  seem,  among  his  fellow-horses,  the  coun 
terpart  of  his  master  among  men.  He  would  no  more 
have  thought  of  kicking  than  the  latter  would  of  swearing 
a  huge  oath.  Even  now,  when  the  top  of  the  hill  was 
gained,  and  he  knew  that  he  was  within  a  mile  of  the  sta 
ble  which  had  been  his  home  since  colthood,  he  showed 
no  undue  haste  or  impatience,  but  waited  quietly,  until 
Friend  Mitchenor,  by  a  well-known  jerk  of  the  lines,  gave 
him  the  signal  to  go  on.  Obedient  to  the  motion,  he  there 
upon  set  forward  once  more,  jogging  soberly  down  the 
eastern  slope  of  the  hill, — across  the  covered  bridge, 
•where,  in  spite  of  the  tempting  level  of  the  hollow-sound 
ing  floor,  he  was  as  careful  to  abstain  from  trotting  as  if 
he  had  read  the  warning  notice, — along  the  wooded  edge 
of  the  green  meadow,  where  several  cows  of  his  acquaint 
ance  were  grazing, — and  finally,  wheeling  around  at  the 
proper  angle,  halted  squarely  in  front  of  the  gate  which 
gave  entrance  to  the  private  lane. 

The  old  stone  house  in  front,  the  spring-house  in  a 
green  little  hollow  just  below  it,  the  walled  garden,  with 


244  TALES    OF    HOME. 

its  clumps  of  box  and  lilac,  and  the  vast  barn  on  the  left, 
all  joining  in  expressing  a  silent  welcome  to  their  owner, 
as  he  drove  up  the  lane.  Moses,  a  man  of  twenty-five, 
left  his  work  in  the  garden,  and  walked  forward  in  his 
shirt-sleeves. 

"  Well,  father,  how  does  thee  do  ? "  was  his  quiet  greet 
ing,  as  they  shook  hands. 

"  How's  mother,  by  this  time  ?  "  asked  Eli. 

"  Oh,  thee  needn't  have  been  concerned,"  said  the  son. 
"  There  she  is.  Go  in  :  I'll  tend  to  the  horse." 

Abigail  and  her  daughter  appeared  on  the  piazza.  The 
mother  was  a  woman  of  fifty,  thin  and  delicate  in  frame, 
but  with  a  smooth,  placid  beauty  of  countenance  which  had 
survived  her  youth.  She  was  dressed  in  a  simple  dove- 
colored  gown,  with  book-muslin  cap  and  handkerchief,  so 
scrupulously  arranged  that  one  might  have  associated  with 
her  for  six  months  without  ever  discovering  a  spot  on  the 
former,  or  an  uneven  fold  in  the  latter.  Asenath,  who  fol 
lowed,  was  almost  as  plainly  attired,  her  dress  being  a 
dark-blue  calico,  while  a  white  pasteboard  sun-bonnet,  with 
broad  cape,  covered  her  head. 

"  Well,  Abigail,  how  art  thou  ?  "  said  Eli,  quietly  giv 
ing  his  hand  to  his  wife. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  thee  back,"  was  her  simple  welcome. 

No  doubt  they  had  kissed  each  other  as  lovers,  but 
Asenath  had  witnessed  this  manifestation  of  affection  but 
once  in  her  life — after  the  burial  of  a  younger  sister.  The 
fact  impressed  her  with  a  peculiar  sense  of  sanctity  and 
solemnity  :  it  was  a  caress  wrung  forth  by  a  season  of  trib- 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  245 

ulation,  and  therefore  was  too  earnest  to  be  profaned  to 
the  uses  of  joy.  So  far,  therefore,  from  expecting  a  pa 
ternal  embrace,  she  would  have  felt,  had  it  been  given, 
like  the  doomed  daughter  of  the  Gileadite,  consecrated  to 
sacrifice. 

Both  she  and  her  mother  were  anxious  to  hear  the  pro 
ceedings  of  the  meeting,  and  to  receive  personal  news  of 
the  many  friends  whom  Eli  had  seen  ;  but  they  asked  few 
questions  until  the  supper-table  was  ready  and  Moses  had 
come  in  from  the  barn.  The  old  man  enjoyed  talking, 
but  it  must  be  in  his  own  way  and  at  his  own  good  time. 
They  must  wait  until  the  communicative  spirit  should 
move  him.  With  the  first  cup  of  coffee  the  inspiration 
came.  Hovering  at  first  over  indifferent  details,  he  gradu 
ally  approached  those  of  more  importance, — told  of  the  ad 
dresses  which  had  been  made,  the  points  of  discipline  dis 
cussed,  the  testimony  borne,  and  the  appearance  and  gene 
alogy  of  any  new  Friends  who  had  taken  a  prominent  part 
therein.  Finally,  at  the  close  of  his  relation,  he  said  — 

"  Abigail,  there  is  one  thing  I  must  talk  to  thee  about. 
Friend  Speakman's  partner, — perhaps  thee's  heard  of  him, 
Richard  Hilton, — has  a  son  who  is  weakly.  He's  two  or 
three  years  younger  than  Moses.  His  mother  was  con 
sumptive,  and  they're  afraid  he  takes  after  her.  His  father 
wants  to  send  him  into  the  country  for  the  summer — to 
some  place  where  he'll  have  good  air,  and  quiet,  and  moder 
ate  exercise,  and  Friend  Speakman  spoke  of  us.  I  thought 
I'd  mention  it  to  thee,  and  if  thee  thinks  well  of  it,  we  can 
send  word  down  next  week,  when  Josiah  Comly  goes." 


246  TALES    OF    HOME. 

"What  does  thee  think  ?  "  asked  his  wife,  after  a  pause 

"  He's  a  very  quiet,  steady  young  man,  Friend  Speak- 
man  says,  and  would  be  very  little  trouble  to  thee.  I 
thought  perhaps  his  board  would  buy  the  new  yoke  of 
oxen  we  must  have  in  the  fall,  and  the  price  of  the  fat 
ones  might  go  to  help  set  up  Moses.  But  it's  for  thee  to 
decide." 

"  I  suppose  we  could  take  him,"  said  Abigail,  seeing 
that  the  decision  was  virtually  made  already  ;  "  there's  the 
corner  room,  which  we  don't  often  use.  Only,  if  he  should 
get  worse  on  our  hands —  " 

"  Friend  Speakman  says  there's  no  danger.  He  is 
only  weak-breasted,  as  yet,  and  clerking  isn't  good  for 
him.  I  saw  the  young  man  at  the  store.  If  his  looks 
don't  belie  him,  he's  well-behaved  and  orderly." 

So  it  was  settled  that  Richard  Hilton  the  younger  was 
to  be  an  inmate  of  Friend  Mitchenor's  house  during  the 
summer. 


II. 


AT  the  end  of  ten  days  he  came. 

In  the  under-sized,  earnest,  dark-haired  and  dark-eyed 
young  man  of  three-and-twenty,  Abigail  Mitchenor  at 
once  felt  a  motherly  interest.  Having  received  him  as  a 
temporary  member  of  the  family,  she  considered  him  en 
titled  to  the  same  watchful  care  as  if  he  were  in  reality  an 
invalid  son.  The  ice  over  an  hereditary  Quaker  nature 
is  but  a  thin  crust,  if  one  knows  how  to  break  it ;  and  in 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  247 

Richard  Hilton's  case,  it  was  already  broken  before  his  ar 
rival.  His  only  embarrassment,  in  fact,  arose  from  the 
difficulty  which  he  naturally  experienced  in  adapting  him 
self  to  the  speech  and  address  of  the  Mitchenor  family. 
The  greetings  of  old  Eli,  grave,  yet  kindly,  of  Abigail, 
quaintly  familiar  and  tender,  of  Moses,  cordial  and  slight 
ly  condescending,  and  finally  of  Asenath,  simple  and  nat 
ural  to  a  degree  which  impressed  him  like  a  new  revelation 
in  woman,  at  once  indicated  to  him  his  position  among 
them.  His  city  manners,  he  felt,  instinctively,  must  be 
unlearned,  or  at  least  laid  aside  for  a  time.  Yet  it  was 
not  easy  for  him  to  assume,  at  such  short  notice,  those 
of  his  hosts.  Happening  to  address  Asenath  as  "  Miss 
Mitchenor,"  Eli  turned  to  him  with  a  rebuking  face. 

"  We  do  not  use  compliments,  Richard,"  said  he  ;  "  my 
daughter's  name  is  Asenath. 

"  I  beg  pardon.  I  will  try  to  accustom  myself  to  your 
ways,  since  you  have  been  so  kind  as  to  take  me  for  a 
while,"  apologized  Richard  Hilton. 

"  Thee's  under  no  obligation  to  us,"  said  Friend  Mitch 
enor,  in  his  strict  sense  of  justice ;  "  thee  pays  for  what 
thee  gets." 

The  finer  feminine  instinct  of  Abigail  led  her  to  inter 
pose. 

"  We'll  not  expect  too  much  of  thee,  at  first,  Richard," 
she  remarked,  with  a  kind  expression  of  face,  which  had 
the  effect  of  a  smile  :  "  but  our  ways  are  plain  and  easily 
learned.  Thee  knows,  perhaps,  that  we're  no  respecters 
of  persons." 


248  TALES    OF    HOME. 

It  was  some  days,  however,  before  the  young  man 
could  overcome  his  natural  hesitation  at  the  familiarity 
implied  by  these  new  forms  of  speech.  "  Friend  Mitche- 
nor  "  and  "  Moses "  were  not  difficult  to  learn,  but  it 
seemed  a  want  of  respect  to  address  as  "  Abigail "  a  wo 
man  of  such  sweet  and  serene  dignity  as  the  mother,  and 
he  was  fain  to  avoid  either  extreme  by  calling  her,  with  her 
cheerful  permission,  "  Aunt  Mitchenor."  On  the  other 
hand,  his  own  modest  and  unobtrusive  nature  soon  won 
the  confidence  and  cordial  regard  of  the  family.  He  oc 
casionally  busied  himself  in  the  garden,  by  way  of  exer 
cise,  or  accompanied  Moses  to  the  corn-field  or  the  wood 
land  on  the  hill,  but  was  careful  never  to  interfere  at  inop 
portune  times,  and  willing  to  learn  silently,  by  the  simple 
process  of  looking  on. 

One  afternoon,  as  he  was  idly  sitting  on  the  stone  wall 
which  separated  the  garden  from  the  lane,  Asenath,  attired 
in  a  new  gown  of  chocolate-colored  calico,  with  a  double- 
handled  willow  work-basket  on  her  arm,  issued  from 
the  house.  As  she  approached  him,  she  paused  and 
said — 

"  The  time  seems  to  hang  heavy  on  thy  hands,  Rich 
ard.  If  thee's  strong  enough  to  walk  to  the  village  and 
back,  it  might  do  thee  more  good  than  sitting  still." 

Richard  Hilton  at  once  jumped  down  from  the  wall. 

"  Certainly  I  am  able  to  go,"  said  he,  "  if  you  will  al 
low  it." 

"  Haven't  I  asked  thee  ? "  was  her  quiet  reply. 

"  Let  me  carry  your  basket,"  he  said,  suddenly,  after 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  249 

they  had  walked,  side  by  side,  some  distance  down  the 
lane. 

"  Indeed,  I  shall  not  let  thee  do  that.  I'm  only  going 
for  the  mail,  and  some  little  things  at  the  store,  that  make 
no  weight  at  all.  Thee  mustn't  think  I'm  like  the  young 
women  in  the  city,  who,  I'm  told,  if  they  buy  a  spool  of 
cotton,  must  have  it  sent  home  to  them.  Besides,  thee 
mustn't  over-exert  thy  strength." 

Richard  Hilton  laughed  merrily  at  the  gravity  with 
which  she  uttered  the  last  sentence. 

"  Why,  Miss — Asenath,  I  mean — what  am  I  good  for; 
if  I  have  not  strength  enough  to  carry  a  basket  ? " 

"  Thee's  a  man,  I  know,  and  I  think  a  man  would  al 
most  as  lief  be  thought  wicked  as  weak.  Thee  can't  help 
being  weakly- inclined,  and  it's  only  right  that  thee  should 
be  careful  of  thyself.  There's  surely  nothing  in  that  that 
thee  need  be  ashamed  of." 

While  thus  speaking,  Asenath  moderated  her  walk,  in 
order,  unconsciously  to  her  companion,  to  restrain  his 
steps. 

"  Oh,  there  are  the  dog's-tooth  violets  in  blossom?" 
she  exclaimed,  pointing  to  a  shady  spot  beside  the  brook ; 
"  does  thee  know  them  ?  " 

Richard  immediately  gathered  and  brought  to  her  a 
handful  of  the  nodding  yellow  bells,  trembling  above  their 
large,  cool,  spotted  leaves. 

"  How  beautiful  they  are  !  "  said  he  ;  "  but  I  should 
never  have  taken  them  for  violets." 

"  They  are  misnamed,"  she  answered.     "  The  flower  is 
n* 


250  TALES    OF    HOME. 

an  Erythronium ;  but  I  am  accustomed  to  the  common 
name,  and  like  it.  Did  thee  ever  study  botany? " 

"  Not  at  all.  I  can  tell  a  geranium,  when  I  see  it, 
and  I  know  a  heliotrope  by  the  smell.  I  could  never  mis 
take  a  red  cabbage  for  a  rose,  and  I  can  recognize  a  hol 
lyhock  or  a  sunflower  at  a  considerable  distance.  The 
wild  flowers  are  all  strangers  to  me  ;  I  wish  I  knew  some 
thing  about  them." 

"  If  thee's  fond  of  flowers,  it  would  be  very  easy  to 
learn.  I  think  a  study  of  this  kind  would  pleasantly  oc 
cupy  thy  mind.  Why  couldn't  thee  try  ?  I  would  be  very 
willing  to  teach  thee  what  little  I  know.  It's  not  much, 
indeed,  but  all  thee  wants  is  a  start.  See,  I  will  show 
thee  how  simple  the  principles  are." 

Taking  one  of  the  flowers  from  the  bunch,  Asenath, 
as  they  slowly  walked  forward,  proceeded  to  dissect  it, 
explained  the  mysteries  of  stamens  and  pistils,  pollen, 
petals,  and  calyx,  and,  by  the  time  they  had  reached  the 
village,  had  succeeded  in  giving  him  a  general  idea  of 
the  Linnaean  system  of  classification.  His  mind  took 
hold  of  the  subject  with  a  prompt  and  profound  interest 
It  was  a  new  and  wonderful  world  which  suddenly  opened 
before  him.  How  surprised  he  was  to  learn  that  there 
were  signs  by  which  a  poisonous  herb  could  be  detected 
from  a  wholesome  one,  that  cedars  and  pine-trees  blos 
somed,  that  the  gray  lichens  on  the  rocks  belonged  to  the 
vegetable  kingdom  !  His  respect  for  Asenath's  knowledge 
thrust  quite  out  of  sight  the  restraint  which  her  youth  and 
sex  had  imposed  upon  him.  She  was  teacher,  equal, 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  251 

friend ;  and  the  simple  candid  manner  which  was  the 
natural  expression  of  her  dignity  and  purity  thoroughly 
harmonized  with  this  relation. 

Although,  in  reality,  two  or  three  years  younger  than 
he,  Asenath  had  a  gravity  of  demeanor,  a  calm  self-pos 
session,  a  deliberate  balance  of  mind,  and  a  repose  of 
the  emotional  nature,  which  he  had  never  before  ob 
served,  except  in  much  older  women.  She  had  had,  as 
he  could  well  imagine,  no  romping  girlhood,  no  season 
of  careless,  light-hearted  dalliance  with  opening  life,  no 
violent  alternation  even  of  the  usual  griefs  and  joys  of 
youth.  The  social  calm  in  which  she  had  expanded  had 
developed  her  nature  as  gently  and  securely  as  a  sea- 
flower  is  unfolded  below  the  reach  of  tides  and 
storms. 

She  would  have  been  very  much  surprised  if  any  one 
had  called  her  handsome  :  yet  her  face  had  a  mild,  unob 
trusive  beauty  which  seemed  to  grow  and  deepen  from 
day  to  day.  Of  a  longer  oval  than  the  Greek  standard, 
it  was  yet  as  harmonious  in  outline ;  the  nose  was  fine 
and  straight,  the  dark-blue  eyes  steady  and  untroubled, 
and  the  lips  calmly,  but  not  too  firmly  closed.  Her  brown 
hair,  parted  over  a  high  white  forehead,  was  smoothly 
laid  across  the  temples,  drawn  behind  the  ears,  and 
twisted  into  a  simple  knot.  The  white  cape  and  sun- 
bonnet  gave  her  face  a  nun-like  character,  which  set  her 
apart,  in  the  thoughts  of  "  the  world's  people  "  whom  she 
met,  as  one  sanctified  for  some  holy  work.  She  might 
have  gone  around  the  world,  repelling  every  rude  word, 


252  TALES    OF    HOME. 

every  bold  glance,  by  the  protecting  atmosphere  of  purity 
and  truth  which  inclosed  her. 

The  days  went  by,  each  bringing  some  new  blossom 
to  adorn  and  illustrate  the  joint  studies  of  the  young  man 
and  maiden.  For  Richard  Hilton  had  soon  mastered 
the  elements  of  botany,  as  taught  by  Priscilla  Wakefield, 
— the  only  source  of  Asenath's  knowledge, — and  entered, 
with  her,  upon  the  text-book  of  Gray,  a  copy  of  which  he 
procured  from  Philadelphia.  Yet,  though  he  had  over 
taken  her  in  his  knowledge  of  the  technicalities  of  the 
science,  her  practical  acquaintance  with  plants  and  their 
habits  left  her  still  his  superior.  Day  by  day,  exploring 
the  meadows,  the  woods,  and  the  clearings,  he  brought 
home  his  discoveries  to  enjoy  her  aid  in  classifying  and 
assigning  them  to  their  true  places.  Asenath  had  gen 
erally  an  hour  or  two  of  leisure  from  domestic  duties  in 
the  afternoons,  or  after  the  early  supper  of  summer  was 
over  ;  and  sometimes,  on  "  Seventh-days,"  she  would  be 
his  guide  to  some  locality  where  the  rarer  plants  were 
known  to  exist.  The  parents  saw  this  community  of  in 
terest  and  exploration  without  a  thought  of  misgiving. 
They  trusted  their  daughter  as  themselves ;  or,  if  any 
possible  fear  had  flitted  across  their  hearts,  it  was  allayed 
by  the  absorbing  delight  with  which  Richard  Hilton  pur 
sued  his  study.  An  earnest  discussion  as  to  whether  a 
certain  leaf  was  ovate  or  lanceolate,  whether  a  certain 
plant  belonged  to  the  species  scandens  or  canadensis,  was, 
in  their  eyes,  convincing  proof  that  the  young  brains  were 
touched,  and  therefore  not  the  young  hearts. 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  253 

But  love,  symbolized  by  a  rose-bud,  is  emphatically  a 
botanical  emotion.  A  sweet,  tender  perception  of  beauty, 
such  as  this  study  requires,  or  develops,  is  at  once  the 
most  subtile  and  certain  chain  of  communication  between 
impressible  natures.  Richard  Hilton,  feeling  that  his 
years  were  numbered,  had  given  up,  in  despair,  his  boy 
ish  dreams,  even  before  he  understood  them :  his  fate 
seemed  to  preclude  the  possibility  of  love.  But,  as  he 
gained  a  little  strength  from  the  genial  season,  the  pure 
country  air,  and  the  release  from  gloomy  thoughts  which 
his  rambles  afforded,  the  end  was  farther  removed,  and  a 
future — though  brief,  perhaps,  still  a  future — began  to 
glimmer  before  him.  If  this  could  be  his  life, — an  end 
less  summer,  with  a  search  for  new  plants  every  morning, 
and  their  classification  every  evening,  with  Asenath's  help 
on  the  shady  portico  of  Friend  Mitchenor's  house, — he 
could  forget  his  doom,  and  enjoy  the  blessing  of  life  un 
thinkingly. 

The  azaleas  succeeded  to  the  anemones,  the  orchis 
and  trillium  followed,  then  the  yellow  gerardias  and  the 
feathery  purple  pogonias,  and  finally  the  growing  gleam 
of  the  golden-rods  along  the  wood-side  and  the  red  um 
bels  of  the  tall  eupatoriums  in  the  meadow  announced 
the  close  of  summer.  One  evening,  as  Richard,  in  dis 
playing  his  collection,  brought  to  view  the  blood-red  leaf 
of  a  gum-tree,  Asenath  exclaimed — 

"  Ah,  there  is  the  sign  !     It  is  early,  this  year." 

"What  sign?"  he  asked. 

"  That  the   summer   is   over.     We    shall  soon  have 


254  TALES    OF    HOME. 

frosty  nights,  and  then  nothing  will  be  left  for  us  except 
the  asters  and  gentians  and  golden-rods." 

Was  the  time  indeed  so  near  ?  A  few  more  weeks, 
and  this  Arcadian  life  would  close.  He  must  go  back  to 
the  city,  to  its  rectilinear  streets,  its  close  brick  walls,  its 
artificial,  constrained  existence.  How  could  he  give  up 
the  peace,  the  contentment,  the  hope  he  had  enjoyed 
through  the  summer  ?  The  question  suddenly  took  a 
more  definite  form  in  his  mind :  How  could  he  give  up 
Asenath  ?  Yes — the  quiet,  unsuspecting  girl,  sitting  be 
side  him,  with  her  lap  full  of  the  September  blooms  he 
had  gathered,  was  thenceforth  a  part  of  his  inmost  life. 
Pure  and  beautiful  as  she  was,  almost  sacred  in  his  re 
gard,  his  heart  dared  to  say — "  I  need  her  and  claim 
her  ! " 

"  Thee  looks  pale  to-night,  Richard,"  said  Abigail, 
as  they  took  their  seats  at  the  supper-table.  "I  hope 
thee  has  not  taken  cold." 


III. 


"  WILL  thee  go  along,  Richard  ?  I  know  where  the 
rudbeckias  grow,"  said  Asenath,  on  the  following 
"  Seventh-day  "  afternoon. 

They  crossed  the  meadows,  and  followed  the  course 
of  the  stream,  under  its  canopy  of  magnificent  ash  and 
plane  trees,  into  a  brake  between  the  hills.  It  was  an  al 
most  impenetrable  thicket,  spangled  with  tall  autumnal 
flowers.  The  eupatoriums,  with  their  purple  crowns, 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  255 

stood  like  young  trees,  with  an  undergrowth  of  aster  and 
blue  spikes  of  lobelia,  tangled  in  a  golden  mesh  of  dod 
der.  A  strong,  mature  odor,  mixed  alike  of  leaves  and 
flowers,  and  very  different  from  the  faint,  elusive  sweet 
ness  of  spring,  filled  the  air.  The  creek,  with  a  few  faded 
leaves  dropped  upon  its  bosom,  and  films  of  gossamer 
streaming  from  its  bushy  fringe,  gurgled  over  the  pebbles 
in  its  bed.  Here  and  there,  on  its  banks,  shone  the  deep 
yellow  stars  of  the  flower  they  sought. 

Richard  Hilton  walked  as  in  a  dream,  mechanically 
plucking  a  stem  of  rudbeckia,  only  to  toss  it,  presently, 
into  the  water. 

"  Why,  Richard !  what's  thee  doing  ?  "  cried  Asenath ; 
"  thee  has  thrown  away  the  very  best  specimen." 

"  Let  it  go,"  he  answered,  sadly.  "  I  am  afraid  every 
thing  else  is  thrown  away." 

"  What  does  thee  mean  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  look  of 
surprised  and  anxious  inquiry. 

"  Don't  ask  me,  Asenath.  Or — yes,  I  will  tell  you. 
I  must  say  it  to  you  now,  or  never  afterwards.  Do  you 
know  what  a  happy  life  I've  been  leading  since  I  came 
here  ? — that  I've  learned  what  life  is,  as  if  I'd  never  known 
it  before  ?  I  want  to  live,  Asenath, — and  do  you  know 
why  ? " 

"  I  hope  thee  will  live,  Richard,"  she  said,  gently  and 
tenderly,  her  deep-blue  eyes  dim  with  the  mist  of  unshed 
tears. 

"  But,  Asenath,  how  am  I  to  live  without  you  ?  But 
you  can't  understand  that,  because  you  do  not  know  what 


256  TALES    OF    HOME. 

you  are  to  me.  No,  you  never  guessed  that  all  this  while 
I've  been  loving  you  more  and  more,  until  now  I  have  no 
other  idea  of  death  than  not  to  see  you,  not  to  love  you, 
not  to  share  your  life  ! " 

"  Oh,  Richard  !  " 

"  I  knew  you  would  be  shocked,  Asenath.  I  meant 
to  have  kept  this  to  myself.  You  never  dreamed  of  it, 
and  I  had  no  right  to  disturb  the  peace  of  your  heart. 
The  truth  is  told  now, — and  I  cannot  take  it  back,  if  I 
wished.  But  if  you  cannot  love,  you  can  forgive  me  for 
loving  you — forgive  me  now  and  every  day  of  my  life." 

He  uttered  these  words  with  a  passionate  tenderness, 
standing  on  the  edge  of  the  stream,  and  gazing  into  its 
waters.  His  slight  frame  trembled  with  the  violence  of 
his  emotion.  Asenath,  who  had  become  very  pale  as  he 
commenced  to  speak,  gradually  flushed  over  neck  and 
brow  as  she  listened.  Her  head  drooped,  the  gathered 
flowers  fell  from  her  hands,  and  she  hid  her  face.  For  a 
few  minutes  no  sound  was  heard  but  the  liquid  gurgling 
of  the  water,  and  the  whistle  of  a  bird  in  the  thicket  be 
side  them.  Richard  Hilton  at  last  turned,  and,  in  a  voice 
of  hesitating  entreaty,  pronounced  her  name — 

"  Asenath ! " 

She  took  away  her  hands,  and  slowly  lifted  her  face. 
She  was  pale,  but  her  eyes  met  his  with  a  frank,  appealing, 
tender  expression,  which  caused  his  heart  to  stand  still  a 
moment.  He  read  no  reproach,  no  faintest  thought  of 
blame ;  but — was  it  pity  ? — was  it  pardon  ? — or 

"  We  stand  before  God.  Richard,"  said  she,  in  a  low, 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  257 

sweet,  solemn  tone.  "  He  knows  that  I  do  not  need  to 
forgive  thee.  If  thee  requires  it,  I  also  require  His  for 
giveness  for  myself." 

Though  a  deeper  blush  now  came  to  cheek  and  brow, 
she  met  his  gaze  with  the  bravery  of  a  pure  and  innocent 
heart  Richard,  stunned  with  the  sudden  and  unexpected 
bliss,  strove  to  take  the  full  consciousness  of  it  into  a  be 
ing  which  seemed  too  narrow  to  contain  it.  His  first  im 
pulse  was  to  rush  forward,  clasp  her  passionately  in  his 
arms,  and  hold  her  in  the  embrace  which  encircled,  for 
him,  the  boundless  promise  of  life ;  but  she  stood  there, 
defenceless,  save  in  her  holy  truth  and  trust,  and  his  heart 
bowed  down  and  gave  her  reverence. 

"  Asenath,"  said  he,  at  last,  "  I  never  dared  to  hope 
for  this.  God  bless  you  for  those  words  !  Can  you  trust 
me  ? — can  you  indeed  love  me  ? " 

"  I  can  trust  thee, — I  do  love  thee  !  " 

They  clasped  each  other's  hands  in  one  long,  clinging 
pressure.  No  kiss  was  given,  but  side  by  side  they  walk 
ed  slowly  up  the  dewy  meadows,  in  happy  and  hallowed 
silence.  Asenath's  face  became  troubled  as  the  old  farm 
house  appeared  through  the  trees. 

"  Father  and  mother  must  know  of  this,  Richard,"  said 
she.  "  I  am  afraid  it  may  be  a  cross  to  them." 

The  same  fear  had  already  visited  his  own  mind,  but 
he  answered,  cheerfully — 

"  I  hope  not.  I  think  I  have  taken  a  new  lease  of 
life,  and  shall  soon  be  strong  enough  to  satisfy  them. 
Besides,  my  father  is  in  prosperous  business." 


258  TALES    OF    HOME. 

"  It  is  not  that,"  she  answered ;  "  but  thee  is  not  one 
of  us." 

It  was  growing  dusk  when  they  reached  the  house. 
In  the  dim  candle-light  Asenath  's  paleness  was  not  re 
marked  ;  and  Richard's  silence  was  attributed  to  fatigue. 

The  next  morning  the  whole  family  attended  meeting 
at  the  neighboring  Quaker  meeting-house,  in  the  prepara 
tion  for  which,  and  the  various  special  occupations  of 
their   "First-day"    mornings,    the   unsuspecting   parents 
overlooked  that  inevitable  change  in  the  faces  of  the  lov 
ers  which  they  must  otherwise  have  observed.     After  din 
ner,  as  Eli  was  taking  a  quiet  walk  in  the  garden,  Rich 
ard  Hilton  approached  him. 

"  Friend  Mitchenor,"  said  he,  "  I  should  like  to  have 
some  talk  with  thee." 

"  What  is  it,  Richard  ? "  asked  the  old  man,  breaking 
off  some  pods  from  a  seedling  radish,  and  rubbing  them 
in  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

"I  hope,  Friend  Mitchenor,"  said  the  young  man, 
scarcely  knowing  how  to  approach  so  important  a  crisis 
in  his  life,  "  I  hope  thee  has  been  satisfied  with  my  con 
duct  since  I  came  to  live  with  thee,  and  has  no  fault  to 
find  with  me  as  a  man." 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Eli,  turning  around  and  looking 
up,  sharply,  "  does  thee  want  a  testimony  from  me  ?  I've 
nothing,  that  I  know  of,  to  say  against  thee." 

"  If  I  were  sincerely  attached  to  thy  daughter,  Friend 
Mitchenor,  and  she  returned  the  attachment,  could  thee 
trust  her  happiness  in  my  hands  ?" 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  259 

"  What  !  "  cried  Eli,  straightening  himself  and  glaring 
upon  the  speaker,  with  a  face  too  amazed  to  express  any 
other  feeling. 

"  Can  you  confide  Asenath's  happiness  to  my  care  ? 
I  love  her  with  my  whole  heart  and  soul,  and  the  fortune 
of  my  life  depends  on  your  answer." 

The  straight  lines  in  the  old  man's  face  seemed  to  grow 
deeper  and  more  rigid,  and  his  eyes  shone  with  the  chill 
glitter  of  steel.  Richard,  not  daring  to  say  a  word  more, 
awaited  his  reply  in  intense  agitation. 

"  So  !  "  he  exclaimed  at  last,  "  this  is  the  way  thee's 
repaid  me  !  I  didn't  expect  this  from  thee  !  Has  thee 
spoken  to  her  ? " 

"  I  have." 

"  Thee  has,  has  thee  ?  And  I  suppose  thee's  persua 
ded  her  to  think  as  thee  does.  Thee'd  better  never  have 
come  here.  When  I  want  to  lose  my  daughter,  and  can't 
find  anybody  else  for  her,  I'll  let  thee  know." 

"What  have  you  against  me,  Friend  Mitchenor ? " 
Richard  sadly  asked,  forgetting,  in  his  excitement,  the 
Quaker  speech  he  had  learned. 

"  Thee  needn't  use  compliments  now  !  Asenath  shall 
be  a  Friend  while  /  live  ;  thy  fine  clothes  and  merry-mak 
ings  and  vanities  are  not  for  her.  Thee  belongs  to  the 
world,  and  thee  may  choose  one  of  the  world's  women." 

"  Never !  "  protested  Richard  ;  but  Friend  Mitchenor 
was  already  ascending  the  garden-steps  on  his  way  to  the 
house. 

The  young  man,  utterly  overwhelmed,  wandered   to 


260  TALES    OF    HOME. 

the  nearest  grove  and  threw  himself  on  the  ground. 
Thus,  in  a  miserable  chaos  of  emotion,  unable  to  grasp 
any  fixed  thought,  the  hours  passed  away.  Towards  even 
ing,  he  heard  a  footstep  approaching,  and  sprang  up.  It 
was  Moses. 

The  latter  was  engaged,  with  the  consent  of  his  parents 
and  expected  to  "pass  meeting"  in  a  few  weeks.  He 
knew  what  had  happened,  and  felt  a  sincere  sympathy  for 
Richard,  for  whom  he  had  a  cordial  regard.  His  face  was 
very  grave,  but  kind. 

"  Thee'd  better  come  in,  Richard,"  said  he  ;  "  the  even 
ings  are  damp,  and  I  v'e  brought  thy  overcoat.  I  know 
everything,  and  I  feel  that  it  must  be  a  great  cross  for 
thee.  But  thee  won't  be  alone  in  bearing  it." 

"  Do  you  think  there  is  no  hope  of  your  father  relent 
ing?"  he  asked,  in  a  tone  of  despondency  which  anticipa 
ted  the  answer. 

"Father's  very  hard  to  move,"  said  Moses;  "and 
when  mother  and  Asenath  can't  prevail  on  him,  nobody 
else  need  try.  I'm  afraid  thee  must  make  up  thy  mind 
to  the  trial.  I'm  sorry  to  say  it,  Richard,  but  I  think 
thee'd  better  go  back  to  town." 

"  I'll  go  to-morrow, — go  and  die  !  "  he  muttered 
hoarsely,  as  he  followed  Moses  to  the  house. 

Abigail,  as  she  saw  his  haggard  face,  wept  quietly. 
She  pressed  his  hand  tenderly,  but  said  nothing.  Eli 
was  stern  and  cold  as  an  Iceland  rock.  Asenath  did  not 
make  her  appearance.  At  supper,  the  old  man  and  his 
son  exchanged  a  few  words  about  the  farm-work  to  be 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  261 

done  on  the  morrow,  but  nothing  else  was  said.  Richard 
soon  left  the  room  and  went  up  to  his  chamber  to  spend 
his  last,  his  only  unhappy  night  at  the  farm.  A  yearning, 
pitying  look  from  Abigail  accompanied  him. 

"  Try  and  not  think  hard  of  us  ! "  was  her  fare 
well  the  next  morning,  as  he  stepped  into  the  old  chair, 
in  which  Moses  was  to  convey  him  to  the  village  where 
he  should  meet  the  Doylestown  stage.  So,  without  a 
word  of  comfort  from  Asenath's  lips,  without  even  a  last 
look  at  her  beloved  face,  he  was  taken  away. 


IV. 


TRUE  and  firm  and  self-reliant  as  was  the  nature  of 
Asenath  Mitchenor,  the  thought  of  resistance  to  her 
father's  will  never  crossed  her  mind.  It  was  fixed  that 
she  must  renounce  all  intercourse  with  Richard  Hilton  ; 
it  was  even  sternly  forbidden  her  to  see  him  again  during 
the  few  hours  he  remained  in  the  house  ;  but  the  sacred 
love,  thus  rudely  dragged  to  the  light  and  outraged,  was 
still  her  own.  She  would  take  it  back  into  the  keeping 
of  her  heart,  and  if  a  day  should  ever  come  when  he 
would  be  free  to  return  and  demand  it  of  her,  he  would 
find  it  there,  unwithered,  with  all  the  unbreathed  perfume 
hoarded  in  its  folded  leaves.  If  that  day  came  not,  she 
would  at  the  last  give  it  back  to  God,  saying,  "  Father, 
here  is  Thy  most  precious  gift,  bestow  it  as  Thou  wilt.'* 

As  her  life  had  never  before  been  agitated  by  any 
strong  emotion,  so  it  was  not  outwardly  agitated  now. 


262  TALES    OF    HOME. 

The  placid  waters  of  her  soul  did  not  heave  and  toss 
before  those  winds  of  passion  and  sorrow :  they  lay  in 
dull,  leaden  calm,  under  a  cold  and  sunless  sky.  What 
struggles  with  herself  she  underwent  no  one  ever  knew. 
After  Richard  Hilton's  departure,  she  never  mentioned 
his  name,  or  referred,  in  any  way,  to  the  summer's  com 
panionship  with  him.  She  performed  her  household  du 
ties,  if  not  cheerfully,  at  least  as  punctually  and  carefully 
as  before ;  and  her  father  congratulated  himself  that  the 
unfortunate  attachment  had  struck  no  deeper  root.  Abi 
gail's  finer  sight,  however,  was  not  deceived  by  this  exter 
nal  resignation.  She  noted  the  faint  shadows  under  the 
eyes,  the  increased  whiteness  of  the  temples,  the  uncon 
scious  traces  of  pain  which  sometimes  played  about  the 
dimpled  corners  of  the  mouth,  and  watched  her  daughter 
with  a  silent,  tender  solicitude. 

The  wedding  of  Moses  was  a  severe  test  of  Asenath's 
strength,  but  she  stood  the  trial  nobly,  performing  all  the 
duties  required  by  her  position  with  such  sweet  compo 
sure  that  many  of  the  older  female  Friends  remarked  to 
Abigail,  "  How  womanly  Asenath  has  grown  !  "  Eli 
Mitchenor  noted,  with  peculiar  satisfaction,  that  the  eyes  of 
the  young  Friends — some  of  them  of  great  promise  in  the 
sect,  and  well  endowed  with  worldly  goods — followed  her 
admiringly.  "  It  will  not  be  long,"  he  thought,  "  before 
she  is  consoled." 

Fortune  seemed  to  favor  his  plans,  and  justify  his 
harsh  treatment  of  Richard  Hilton.  There  were  unfav 
orable  accounts  of  the  young  man's  conduct.  His  father 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  263 

had  died  during  the  winter,  and  he  was  represented  as 
having  become  very  reckless  and  dissipated.  These  re 
ports  at  last  assumed  such  a  definite  form  that  Friend 
Mitchenor  brought  them  to  the  notice  of  his  family. 

"  I  met  Josiah  Comly  in  the  road,"  said  he,  one  day 
at  dinner.  "  He's  just  come  from  Philadelphia,  and 
brings  bad  news  of  Richard  Hilton.  He's  taken  to  drink, 
and  is  spending  in  wickedness  the  money  his  father  left 
him.  His  friends  have  a  great  concern  about  him,  but  it 
seems  he's  not  to  be  reclaimed." 

Abigail  looked  imploringly  at  her  husband,  but  he 
either  disregarded  or  failed  to  understand  her  look.  As- 
enath,  who  had  grown  very  pale,  steadily  met  her  father's 
gaze,  and  said,  in  a  tone  which  he  had  never  yet  heard 

from  her  lips — 

"  Father,  will  thee  please  never  mention  Richard  Hil 
ton's  name  when  I  am  by  ? " 

The  words  were  those  of  entreaty,  but  the  voice  was 
that  of  authority.  The  old  man  was  silenced  by  a  new 
and  unexpected  power  in  his  daughter's  heart :  he  sud 
denly  felt  that  she  was  not  a  girl,  as  heretofore,  but  a 
woman,  whom  he  might  persuade,  but  could  no  longer 
compel. 

"  It  shall  be  as  thee  wishes,  Asenath,"  he  said  ;  "  we 
had  best  forget  him." 

Of  their  friends,  however,  she  could  not  expect  this 
reserve,  and  she  was  doomed  to  hear  stories  of  Richard 
which  clouded  and  embittered  her  thoughts  of  him.  And 
a  still  severer  trial  was  in  store.  She  accompanied  her 


264  TALES    OF    HOME. 

father,  in  obedience  to  his  wish,  and  against  her  own  de 
sire,  to  the  Yearly  Meeting  in  Philadelphia.  It  has 
passed  into  a  proverb  that  the  Friends,  on  these  occa 
sions,  always  bring  rain  with  them  ;  and  the  period  of  her 
visit  was  no  exception  to  the  rule.  The  showery  days  of 
"  Yearly  Meeting  Week"  glided  by,  until  the  last,  and  she 
looked  forward  with  relief  to  the  morrow's  return  to 
Bucks  County,  glad  to  have  escaped  a  meeting  with 
Richard  Hilton,  which  might  have  confirmed  her  fears 
and  could  but  have  given  her  pain  in  any  case. 

As  she  and  her  father  joined  each  other,  outside  the 
meeting-house,  at  the  close  of  the  afternoon  meeting,  a 
light  rain  was  falling.  She  took  his  arm,  under  the  capa 
cious  umbrella,  and  they  were  soon  alone  in  the  wet 
streets,  on  their  way  to  the  house  of  the  Friends  who  en 
tertained  them.  At  a  crossing,  where  the  water  pouring 
down  the  gutter  towards  the  Delaware,  caused  them  to 
halt,  a  man,  plashing  through  the  flood,  staggered  towards 
them.  Without  an  umbrella,  with  dripping,  disordered 
clothes,  yet  with  a  hot,  flushed  face,  around  which  the 
long  black  hair  hung  wildly,  he  approached,  singing  to 
himself  with  maudlin  voice  a  song  that  would  have  been 
sweet  and  tender  in  a  lover's  mouth.  Friend  Mitchenor 
drew  to  one  side,  lest  his  spotless  drab  should  be  brushed 
by  the  unclean  reveller ;  but  the  latter,  looking  up,  stop 
ped  suddenly  face  to  face  with  them. 

"  Asenath ! "  he  cried,  in  a  voice  whose  anguish 
pierced  through  the  confusion  of  his  senses,  and  struck 
down  into  the  sober  quick  of  his  soul. 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  265 

"  Richard  ! "  she  breathed,  rather  than  spoke,  in  a  low, 
terrified  voice. 

It  was  indeed  Richard  Hilton  who  stood  before  her, 
or  rather — as  she  afterwards  thought,  in  recalling  the  in 
terview — the  body  of  Richard  Hilton  possessed  by  an 
evil  spirit.  His  cheeks  burned  with  a  more  than  hectic 
red,  his  eyes  were  wild  and  bloodshot,  and  though  the 
recognition  had  suddenly  sobered  him,  an  impatient, 
reckless  devil  seemed  to  lurk  under  the  set  mask  of  his 
features. 

"  Here  I  am,  Asenath,"  he  said  at  length,  hoarsely. 
"  I  said  it  was  death,  didn't  I  ?  Well,  it's  worse  than 
death,  I  suppose  ;  but  what  matter  ?  You  can't  be  more 
lost  to  me  now  than  you  were  already.  This  is  thy  doing, 
Friend  Eli,"  he  continued,  turning  to  the  old  man,  with  a 
sneering  emphasis  on  the  "thy"  "  I  hope  thee's  satisfied 
with  thy  work ! " 

Here  he  burst  into  a  bitter,  mocking  laugh,  which  it 
chilled  Asenath's  blood  to  hear. 

The  old  man  turned  pale.  "  Come  away,  child  ! ''  said 
he,  tugging  at  her  arm.  But  she  stood  firm,  strengthened 
for  the  moment  by  a  solemn  feeling  of  duty  which  tram 
pled  down  her  pain. 

"  Richard,"  she  said,  with  the  music  of  an  immeasur 
able  sorrow  in  her  voice,  "  oh,  Richard,  what  has  thee 
done  ?  Where  the  Lord  commands  resignation,  thee  has 
been  rebellious ;  where  he  chasteneth  to  purify,  thee  turns 
blindly  to  sin.  I  had  not  expected  this  of  thee,  Richard ; 
I  thought  thy  regard  for  me  was  of  the  kind  which  would 
12 


266  TALES    OF    HOME. 

have  helped  and  uplifted  thee, — not  through  me,  as  an 
unworthy  object,  but  through  the  hopes  and  the  pure  de 
sires  of  thy  own  heart.  I  expected  that  thee  would  so 
act  as  to  justify  what  I  felt  towards  thee,  not  to  make  my 
affection  a  reproach, — oh,  Richard,  not  to  cast  over  my 
heart  the  shadow  of  thy  sin  !  " 

The  wretched  young  man  supported  himself  against 
the  post  of  an  awning,  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and 
wept  passionately.  Once  or  twice  he  essayed  to  speak, 
but  his  voice  was  choked  by  sobs,  and,  after  a  look  from 
the  streaming  eyes  which  Asenath  could  scarcely  bear  to 
meet,  he  again  covered  his  face.  A  stranger,  coming 
down  the  street,  paused  out  of  curiosity.  "  Come,  come  !  " 
cried  Eli,  once  more,  eager  to  escape  from  the  scene. 
His  daughter  stood  still,  and  the  man  slowly  passed  on. 

Asenath  could  not  thus  leave  her  lost  lover,  in  his  des 
pairing  grief.  She  again  turned  to  him,  her  own  tears 
flowing  fast  and  free. 

"  I  do  not  judge  thee,  Richard,  but  the  words  that 
passed  between  us  give  me  a  right  to  speak  to  thee.  It 
was  hard  to  lose  sight  of  thee  then,  but  it  is  still 
harder  for  me  to  see  thee  now.  If  the  sorrow  and  pity  I 
feel  could  save  thee,  I  would  be  willing  never  to  know  any 
other  feelings.  I  would  still  do  anything  for  thee  except 
that  which  thee  cannot  ask,  as  thee  now  is,  and  I  could 
not  give.  Thee  has  made  the  gulf  between  us  so  wide 
that  it  cannot  be  crossed.  But  I  can  now  weep  for  thee 
and  pray  for  thee  as  a  fellow-creature  whose  soul  is  still 
precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord.  Fare  thee  well !  " 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  267 

He  seized  the  hand  she  extended,  bowed  down,  and 
showered  mingled  tears  and  kisses  upon  it.  Then,  with  a 
wild  sob  in  his  throat,  he  started  up  and  rushed  down  the 
street,  through  the  fast-falling  rain.  The  father  and 
daughter  walked  home  in  silence.  Eli  had  heard  every 
word  that  was  spoken,  and  felt  that  a  spirit  whose  utteran 
ces  he  dared  not  question  had  visited  Asenath's  tongue. 

She,  as  year  after  year  went  by,  regained  the  peace 
and  patience  which  give  a  sober  cheerfulness  to  life.  The 
pangs  of  her  heart  grew  dull  and  transient ;  but  there  were 
two  pictures  in  her  memory  which  never  blurred  in  out 
line  or  faded  in  color :  one,  the  brake  of  autumn  flowers 
under  the  bright  autumnal  sky,  with  bird  and  stream  mak 
ing  accordant  music  to  the  new  voice  of  love ;  the  other 
a  rainy  street,  with  a  lost,  reckless  man  leaning  against  an 
awning-post,  and  staring  in  her  face  with  eyes  whose  un 
utterable  woe,  when  she  dared  to  recall  it,  darkened  the 
beauty  of  the  earth,  and  almost  shook  her  trust  in  the 
providence  of  God. 


V. 

YEAR  after  year  passed  by,  but  not  without  bringing 
change  to  the  Mitchenor  family.  Moses  had  moved  to 
Chester  County  soon  after  his  marriage,  and  had  a  good 
farm  of  his  own.  At  the  end  of  ten  years  Abigail  died  ; 
and  the  old  man,  who  had  not  only  lost  his  savings  by  an 
unlucky  investment,  but  was  obliged  to  mortgage  his  farm, 
finally  determined  to  sell  it  and  join  his  son.  He  was 


268  TALES    OF    HOME. 

getting  too  old  to  manage  it  properly,  impatient  under  the 
unaccustomed  pressure  of  debt,  and  depressed  by  the  loss 
of  the  wife  to  whom,  without  any  outward  show  of  tender 
ness,  he  was,  in  truth,  tenderly  attached.  He  missed  her 
more  keenly  in  the  places  where  she  had  lived  and  moved 
than  in  a  neighborhood  without  the  memory  of  her  presence. 
The  pang  with  which  he  parted  from  his  home  was  weak 
ened  by  the  greater  pang  which  had  preceded  it. 

It  was  a  harder  trial  to  Asenath.  She  shrank  from 
the  encounter  with  new  faces,  and  the  necessity  of  crea 
ting  new  associations.  There  was  a  quiet  satisfaction  in 
the  ordered,  monotonous  round  of  her  life,  which  might 
be  the  same  elsewhere,  but  here  alone  was  the  nook  which 
held  all  the  morning  sunshine  she  had  ever  known.  Here 
still  lingered  the  halo  of  the  sweet  departed  summer, — 
here  still  grew  the  familiar  wild-flowers  which  the  first 
Richard  Hilton  had  gathered.  This  was  the  Paradise  in 
which  the  Adam  of  her  heart  had  dwelt,  before  his  fall. 
Her  resignation  and  submission  entitled  her  to  keep  those 
pure  and  perfect  memories,  though  she  was  scarcely  con 
scious  of  their  true  charm.  She  did  not  dare  to  express 
to  herself,  in  words,  that  one  everlasting  joy  of  woman's 
heart,  through  all  trials  and  sorrows — "  I  have  loved,  I 
have  been  beloved." 

On  the  last  u  First-day "  before  their  departure,  she 
walked  down  the  meadows  to  the  lonely  brake  between 
the  hills.  It  was  the  early  spring,  and  the  black  buds  of 
the  ash  had  just  begun  to  swell.  The  maples  were  dusted 
with  crimson  bloom,  and  the  downy  catkins  of  the  swamp- 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  269 

willow  dropped  upon  the  stream  and  floated  past  her,  as 
once  the  autumn  leaves.  In  the  edges  of  the  thickets 
peeped  forth  the  blue,  scentless  violet,  the  fairy  cups  of 
the  anemone,  and  the  pink-veined  bells  of  the  miskodeed. 
The  tall  blooms  through  which  the  lovers  walked  still 
slept  in  the  chilly  earth  ;  but  the  sky  above  her  was  mild 
and  blue,  and  the  remembrance  of  the  day  came  back  to 
her  with  a  delicate,  pungent  sweetness,  like  the  perfume 
of  the  trailing  arbutus  in  the  air  around  her.  In  a  shel 
tered,  sunny  nook,  she  found  a  single  erythronium,  lured 
forth  in  advance  of  its  proper  season,  and  gathered  it  as  a 
relic  of  the  spot,  which  she  might  keep  without  blame. 
As  she  stooped  to  pluck  it,  her  own  face  looked  up  at  her 
out  of  a  little  pool  filled  by  the  spring  rains.  Seen  against 
the  reflected  sky,  it  shone  with  a  soft  radiance,  and  the 
earnest  eyes  met  hers,  as  if  it  were  her  young  self,  evoked 
from  the  past,  to  bid  her  farewell.  "Farewell!"  she 
whispered,  taking  leave  at  once,  as  she  believed,  of  youth 
and  the  memory  of  love. 

During  those  years  she  had  more  than  once  been 
sought  in  marriage,  but  had  steadily,  though  kindly,  re 
fused.  Once,  when  the  suitor  was  a  man  whose  character 
and  position  made  the  union  very  desirable  in  Eli  Mitch- 
enor's  eyes,  he  ventured  to  use  his  paternal  influence. 
Asenath's  gentle  resistance  was  overborne  by  his  arbitrary 
force  of  will,  and  her  protestations  were  of  no  avail. 

"  Father,"  she  finally  said,  in  the  tone  which  he  had 
once  heard  and  still  remembered,  ''  thee  can  take  away, 
but  thee  cannot  give." 


2/0  TALES   OF   HOME. 

He  never  mentioned  the  subject  again. 

Richard  Hilton  passed  out  of  her  knowledge  shortly 
after  her  meeting  with  him  in  Philadelphia.  She  heard, 
indeed,  that  his  headlong  career  of  dissipation  was  not 
arrested, — that  his  friends  had  given  him  up  as  hopelessly 
ruined, — and,  finally,  that  he  had  left  the  city.  After 
that,  all  reports  ceased.  He  was  either  dead,  or  reclaim 
ed  and  leading  a  better  life,  somewhere  far  away.  Dead, 
she  believed — almost  hoped  ;  for  in  that  case  might  he 
not  now  be  enjoying  the  ineffable  rest  and  peace  which 
she  trusted  might  be  her  portion  ?  It  was  better  to  think 
of  him  as  a  purified  spirit,  waiting  to  meet  her  in  a  holier 
communion,  than  to  know  that  he  was  still  bearing  the 
burden  of  a  soiled  and  blighted  life.  In  any  case,  her 
own  future  was  plain  and  clear.  It  was  simply  a  pro 
longation  of  the  present  —  an  alternation  of  seed-time 
and  harvest,  filled  with  humble  duties  and  cares,  until 
the  Master  should  bid  her  lay  down  her  load  and  follow 
Him. 

Friend  Mitchenor  bought  a  small  cottage  adjacent  to 
his  son's  farm,  in  a  community  which  consisted  mostly  of 
Friends,  and  not  far  from  the  large  old  meeting-house  in 
which  the  Quarterly  Meetings  were  held.  He  at  once 
took  his  place  on  the  upper  seat,  among  the  elders,  most 
of  whom  he  knew  already,  from  having  met  them,  year 
after  year,  in  Philadelphia.  The  charge  of  a  few  acres  of 
ground  gave  him  sufficient  occupation  ;  the  money  left  to 
him  after  the  sale  of  his  farm  was  enough  to  support  him 
comfortably  ;  and  a  late  Indian  summer  of  contentment 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  2?  I 

seemed  now  to  have  come  to  the  old  man.  He  was  done 
with  the  earnest  business  of  life.  Moses  was  gradually 
taking  his  place,  as  father  and  Friend ;  and  Asenath  would 
be  reasonably  provided  for  at  his  death.  As  his  bodily 
energies  decayed,  his  imperious  temper  softened,  his  mind 
became  more  accessible  to  liberal  influences,  and  he  even 
cultivated  a  cordial  friendship  with  a  neighboring  farmer 
who  was  one  of  "  the  world's  people."  Thus,  at  seventy-five 
he  was  really  younger,  because  tenderer  of  heart  and  more 
considerate,  than  he  had  been  at  sixty. 

Asenath  was  now  a  woman  of  thirty-five,  and  suitors 
had  ceased  to  approach  her.  Much  of  her  beauty  still 
remained,  but  her  face  had  become  thin  and  wasted,  and 
the  inevitable  lines  were  beginning  to  form  around  her 
eyes.  Her  dress  was  plainer  than  ever,  and  she  wore  the 
scoop-bonnet  of  drab  silk,  in  which  no  woman  can  seem 
beautiful,  unless  she  be  very  old.  She  was  calm  and  grave 
in  her  demeanor,  save  that  her  perfect  goodness  and  be 
nevolence  shone  through  and  warmed  her  presence  ;  but, 
when  earnestly  interested,  she  had  been  known  to  speak  her 
mind  so  clearly  and  forcibly  that  it  was  generally  surmised 
among  the  Friends  that  she  possessed  "  a  gift,"  which 
might,  in  time,  raise  her  to  honor  among  them.  To  the 
children  of  Moses  she  was  a  good  genius,  and  a  word  from 
"  Aunt  'Senath  "  oftentimes  prevailed  when  the  authority 
of  the  parents  was  disregarded.  In  them  she  found  a  new 
source  of  happiness  ;  and  when  her  old  home  on  the 
Neshaminy  had  been  removed  a  little  farther  into  the  past, 
so  that  she  no  longer  looked,  with  every  morning's  sun, 


272  TALES  OF   HOME. 

for  some  familiar  feature  of  its  scenery,  her  submission 
brightened  into  a  cheerful  content  with  life. 

It  was  summer,  and  Quarterly-Meeting  Day  had  ar 
rived.  There  had  been  rumors  of  the  expected  presence 
of  "  Friends  from  a  distance,"  and  not  only  those  of  the 
district,  but  most  of  the  neighbors  who  were  not  connected 
with  the  sect,  attended.  By  the  by-road,  through  the 
woods,  it  was  not  more  than  half  a  mile  from  Friend  Mitch- 
enor's  cottage  to  the  meeting-house,  and  Asenath,  leaving 
her  father  to  be  taken  by  Moses  in  his  carriage,  set  out 
on  foot.  It  was  a  sparkling,  breezy  day,  and  the  forest 
was  full  of  life.  Squirrels  chased  each  other  along  the 
branches  of  the  oaks,  and  the  air  was  filled  with  fragrant 
odors  of  hickory-leaves,  sweet  fern,  and  spice-wood. 
Picking  up  a  flower  here  and  there,  Asenath  walked  on 
ward,  rejoicing  alike  in  shade  and  sunshine,  grateful  for 
"all  the  consoling  beauty  which  the  earth  offers  to  a  lonely 
heart.  That  serene  content  which  she  had  learned  to  call 
happiness  had  filled  her  being  until  the  dark  canopy  was 
lifted  and  the  waters  took  back  their  transparency  under 
a  cloudless  sky. 

Passing  around  to  the  "  women's  side  "  of  the  meeting 
house,  she  mingled  with  her  friends,  who  were  exchanging 
information  concerning  the  expected  visitors.  Micajah  Mor- 
rill  had  not  arrived,  they  said,  but  Ruth  Baxter  had  spent 
the  last  night  at  Friend  Way's,  and  would  certainly  be 
there.  Besides,  there  were  Friend  Chandler,  from  Nine 
Partners,  and  Friend  Carter,  from  Maryland  :  they  had 
been  seen  on  the  ground.  Friend  Carter  was  said  to  have 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  2/3 

a  wonderful  gift, — Mercy  Jackson  had  heard  him  once,  in 
Baltimore.  The  Friends  there  had  been  a  little  exercised 
about  him,  because  they  thought  he  was  too  much  in 
clined  to  "the  newness,"  but  it  was  known  that  the  Spirit 
had  often  manifestly  led  him.  Friend  Chandler  had  vis 
ited  Yearly  Meeting  once,  they  believed.  He  was  an  old 
man,  and  had  been  a  personal  friend  of  Elias  Hicks. 

At  the  appointed  hour  they  entered  the  house.  After 
the  subdued  rustling  which  ensued  upon  taking  their  seats, 
there  was  an  interval  of  silence,  shorter  than  usual,  be 
cause  it  was  evident  that  many  persons  would  feel  the 
promptings  of  the  Spirit.  Friend  Chandler  spoke  first, 
and  was  followed  by  Ruth  Baxter,  a  frail  little  woman, 
with  a  voice  of  exceeding  power.  The  not  unmelodious 
chant  in  which  she  delivered  her  admonitions  rang  out,  at 
times,  like  the  peal  of  a  trumpet.  Fixing  her  eyes  on  va 
cancy,  with  her  hands  on  the  wooden  rail  before  her,  and 
her  body  slightly  swaying  to  and  fro,  her  voice  soared  far 
aloft  at  the  commencement  of  every  sentence,  gradually 
dropping,  through  a  melodious  scale  of  tone,  to  the  close. 
She  resembled  an  inspired  prophetess,  an  aged  Deborah, 
crying  aloud  in  the  valleys  of  Israel. 

The  last  speaker  was  Friend  Carter,  a  small  man,  not 
more  than  forty  years  of  age.  His  face  was  thin  and  in 
tense  in  its  expression,  his  hair  gray  at  the  temples, 
and  his  dark  eye  almost  too  restless  for  a  child  of 
"  the  stillness  and  the  quietness."  His  voice,  though  not 
loud,  was  clear  and  penetrating,  with  an  earnest,  sympa 
thetic  quality,  which  arrested,  not  the  ear  alone,  but  the 
12* 


2/4  TALES    OF    HOME. 

serious  attention  of  the  auditor.  His  delivery  was  but 
slightly  marked  by  the  peculiar  rhythm  of  the  Quaker 
preachers ;  and  this  fact,  perhaps,  increased  the  effect  of 
his  words,  through  the  contrast  with  those  who  preceded 
him. 

His  discourse  was  an  eloquent  vindication  of  the  law 
of  kindness,  as  the  highest  and  purest  manifestation  of 
true  Christian  doctrine.  The  paternal  relation  of  God  to 
man  was  the  basis  of  that  religion  which  appealed  directly 
to  the  heart :  so  the  fraternity  of  each  man  with  his  fellow 
was  its  practical  application.  God  pardons  the  repentant 
sinner :  we  can  also  pardon,  where  we  are  offended ;  we 
can  pity,  where  we  cannot  pardon.  Both  the  good  and 
the  bad  principles  generate  their  like  in  others.  Force 
begets  force ;  anger  excites  a  corresponding  anger  ;  but 
kindness  awakens  the  slumbering  emotions  even  of  an  evil 
heart.  Love  may  not  always  be  answered  by  an  equal 
love,  but  it  has  never  yet  created  hatred.  The  testimony 
which  Friends  bear  against  war,  he  said,  is  but  a  general 
assertion,  which  has  no  value  except  in  so  far  as  they 
manifest  the  principle  of  peace  in  their  daily  lives — in  the 
exercise  of  pity,  of  charity,  of  forbearance,  and  Christian 
love. 

The  words  of  the  speaker  sank  deeply  into  the  hearts 
of  his  hearers.  There  was  an  intense  hush,  as  if  in  truth 
the  Spirit  had  moved  him  to  speak,  and  every  sentence 
was  armed  with  a  sacred  authority.  Asenath  Mitchenor 
looked  at  him,  over  the  low  partition  which  divided  her 
and  her  sisters  from  the  men's  side,  absorbed  in  his  rapt 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  2/5 

earnestness  and  truth.  She  forgot  that  other  hearers  were 
present :  he  spake  to  her  alone.  A  strange  spell  seemed 
to  seize  upon  her  faculties  and  chain  them  at  his  feet  :  had 
he  beckoned  to  her,  she  would  have  arisen  and  walked  to 
his  side. 

Friend  Carter  warmed  and  deepened  as  he  went  on. 
"  I  feel  moved  to-day,"  he  said, — "  moved,  I  know  not 
why,  but  I  hope  for  some  wise  purpose, — to  relate  to  you 
an  instance  of  Divine  and  human  kindness  which  has  come 
directly  to  my  own  knowledge.  A  young  man  of  delicate 
constitution,  whose  lungs  were  thought  to  be  seriously  af 
fected,  was  sent  to  the  house  of  a  Friend  in  the  country, 
in  order  to  try  the  effect  of  air  and  exercise." 

Asenath  almost  ceased  to  breathe,  in  the  intensity  with 
which  she  gazed  and  listened.  Clasping  her  hands  tightly 
in  her  lap  to  prevent  them  from  trembling,  and  steadying 
herself  against  the  back  of  the  seat,  she  heard  the  story 
of  her  love  for  Richard  Hilton  told  by  the  lips  of  a 
stranger  ! — not  merely  of  his  dismissal  from  the  house,  but 
of  that  meeting  in  the  street,  at  which  only  she  and  her 
father  were  present  !  Nay,  more,  she  heard  her  own 
words  repeated,  she  heard  Richard's  passionate  outburst 
of  remorse  described  in  language  that  brought  his  living 
face  before  her !  She  gasped  for  breath — his  face  was 
before  her  !  The  features,  sharpened  by  despairing  grief, 
which  her  memory  recalled,  had  almost  anticipated  the 
harder  lines  which  fifteen  years  had  made,  and  which  now, 
with  a  terrible  shock  and  choking  leap  of  the  heart,  she  rec 
ognized.  Her  senses  faded,  and  she  would  have  fallen 


2/6  TALES    OF    HOME. 

from  her  seat  but  for  the  support  of  the  partition  against 
which  she  leaned.  Fortunately,  the  women  near  her  were 
too  much  occupied  with  the  narrative  to  notice  her  condi 
tion.  Many  of  them  wept  silently,  with  their  handker 
chiefs  pressed  over  their  mouths. 

The  first  shock  of  death-like  faintness  passed  away, 
and  she  clung  to  the  speaker's  voice,  as  if  its  sound  alone 
could  give  her  strength  to  sit  still  and  listen  further. 

"  Deserted  by  his  friends,  unable  to  stay  his  feet  on 
the  evil  path,"  he  continued,  "  the  young  man  left  his 
home  and  went  to  a  city  in  another  State.  But  here  it 
was  easier  to  find  associates  in  evil  than  tender  hearts 
that  might  help  him  back  to  good.  He  was  tired  of 
life,  and  the  hope  of  a  speedier  death  hardened  him  in 
his  courses.  But,  my  friends,  Death  never  comes  to 
those  who  wickedly  seek  him.  The  Lord  withholds  de 
struction  from  the  hands  that  are  madly  outstretched  to 
grasp  it,  and  forces  His  pity  and  forgiveness  on  the  un 
willing  soul.  Finding  that  it  was  the  principle  of  life 
which  grew  stronger  within  him,  the  young  man  at  last 
meditated  an  awful  crime.  The  thought  of  self-destruc 
tion  haunted  him  day  and  night.  He  lingered  around 
the  wharves,  gazing  into  the  deep  waters,  and  was  re 
strained  from  the  deed  only  by  the  memory  of  the  last 
loving  voice  he  had  heard.  One  gloom}'  evening,  when 
even  this  memory  had  faded,  and  he  awaited  the  approach 
ing  darkness  to  make  his  design  secure,  a  hand  was  laid 
on  his  ann.  A  man  in  the  simple  garb  of  the  Friends 
stood  beside  him,  and  a  face  which  reflected  the  kindness 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  277 

of  the  Divine  Father  looked  upon  him.  '  My  child,'  said 
he,  '  I  am  drawn  to  thee  by  the  great  trouble  of  thy  mind. 
Shall  I  tell  thee  what  it  is  thee  meditates  ? '  The  young 
man  shook  his  head.  '  I  will  be  silent,  then,  but  I  will 
save  thee.  I  know  the  human  heart,  and  its  trials  and 
weaknesses,  and  it  may  be  put  into  my  mouth  to  give  thee 
strength.'  He  took  the  young  man's  hand,  as  if  he  had 
been  a  little  child,  and  led  him  to  his  home.  He  heard 
the  sad  story,  from  beginning  to  end ;  and  the  young 
man  wept  upon  his  breast,  to  hear  no  word  of  reproach, 
but  only  the  largest  and  tenderest  pity  bestowed  upon 
him.  They  knelt  down,  side  by  side,  at  midnight  j  and 
the  Friend's  right  hand  was  upon  his  head  while  they 
prayed. 

"  The  young  man  was  rescued  from  his  evil  ways,  to 
acknowledge  still  further  the  boundless  mercy  of  Provi 
dence.  The  dissipation  wherein  he  had  recklessly  sought 
death  was,  for  him,  a  marvellous  restoration  to  life.  His 
lungs  had  become  sound  and  free  from  the  tendency  to 
disease.  The  measure  of  his  forgiveness  was  almost  more 
than  he  could  bear.  He  bore  his  cross  thenceforward  with 
a  joyful  resignation,  and  was  mercifully  drawn  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  Truth,  until,  in  the  fulness  of  his  convictions, 
he  entered  into  the  brotherhood  of  the  Friends. 

"  I  have  been  powerfully  moved  to  tell  you  this  story." 
Friend  Carter  concluded,  "from  a  feeling  that  it  may  be 
needed,  here,  at  this  time,  to  influence  some  heart  trem 
bling  in  the  balance.  Who  is  there  among  you,  my  friends, 
that  may  not  snatch  a  brand  from  the  burning  !  Oh,  be- 


278  TALES    OF    HOME. 

lieve  that  pity  and  charity  are  the  most  effectual  weap 
ons  given  into  the  hands  of  us  imperfect  mortals,  and 
leave  the  awful  attribute  of  wrath  in  the  hands  of  the 
Lord  ! " 

He  sat  down,  and  dead  silence  ensued.  Tears  of  emo 
tion  stood  in  the  eyes  of  the  hearers,  men  as  well  as  women, 
and  tears  of  gratitude  and  thanksgiving  gushed  warmly 
from  those  of  Asenath.  An  ineffable  peace  and  joy  de 
scended  upon  her  heart. 

When  the  meeting  broke  up,  Friend  Mitchenor,  who 
had  not  recognized  Richard  Hilton,  but  had  heard  the 
story  with  feelings  which  he  endeavored  in  vain  to  control, 
approached  the  preacher. 

"  The  Lord  spoke  to  me  this  day  through  thy  lips," 
said  he  ;  "  will  thee  come  to  one  side,  and  hear  me  a  min 
ute  ? " 

"  Eli  Mitchenor !  "  exclaimed  Friend  Carter ;  "  Eli !  I 
knew  not  thee  was  here  !  Doesn't  thee  know  me  ? " 

The  old  man  stared  in  astonishment.  "  It  seems  like 
a  face  I  ought  to  know,"  he  said,  "but  I  can't  place  thee." 
They  withdrew  to  the  shade  of  one  of  the  poplars.  Friend 
Carter  turned  again,  much  moved,  and,  grasping  the  old 
man's  hands  in  his  own,  exclaimed — 

"  Friend  Mitchenor,  I  was  called  upon  to-day  to  speak 
of  myself.  I  am — or,  rather,  I  was — the  Richard  Hilton 
whom  thee  knew." 

Friend  Mitchenor's  face  flushed  with  mingled  emotions 
of  shame  and  joy,  and  his  grasp  on  the  preacher's  hands 
tightened. 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  2/9 

"  But  thee  calls  thyself  Carter  ? "  he  finally  said. 

"  Soon  after  I  was  saved,"  was  the  reply,  "  an  aunt  on 
the  mother's  side  died,  and  left  her  property  to  me,  on  con 
dition  that  I  should  take  her  name.  I  was  tired  of  my 
own  then,  and  to  give  it  up  seemed  only  like  losing  my 
former  self;  but  I  should  like  to  have  it  back  again  now." 

"  Wonderful  are  the  ways  of  the  Lord,  and  past  find 
ing  out !  "  said  the  old  man.  "  Come  home  with  me, 
Richard, — come  for  my  sake,  for  there  is  a  concern  on  my 
mind  until  all  is  clear  between  us.  Or,  stay, — will  thee 
walk  home  with  Asenath,  while  I  go  with  Moses  ? " 

"  Asenath  ? " 

"  Yes.  There  she  goes,  through  the  gate.  Thee  can 
easily  overtake  her.  I  'm  coming,  Moses !  " — and  he  hur 
ried  away  to  his  son's  carriage,  which  was  approaching. 

Asenath  felt  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  her  to  meet 
Richard  Hilton  there.  She  knew  not  why  his  name  had 
been  changed  ;  he  had  not  betrayed  his  identity  with  the 
young  man  of  his  story  ;  he  evidently  did  not  wish  it  to  be 
known,  and  an  unexpected  meeting  with  her  might  sur 
prise  him  into  an  involuntary  revelation  of  the  fact.  It 
was  enough  for  her  that  a  saviour  had  arisen,  and  her  lost 
Adam  was  redeemed, — that  a  holier  light  than  the  autumn 
sun's  now  rested,  and  would  forever  rest,  on  the  one  land 
scape  of  her  youth.  Her  eyes  shone  with  the  pure  bright 
ness  of  girlhood,  a  soft  warmth  colored  her  cheek  and 
smoothed  away  the  coming  lines  of  her  brow,  and  her  step 
was  light  and  elastic  as  in  the  old  time. 

Eager  to  escape  from  the  crowd,  she  crossed  the  high- 


280  TALES    OF    HOME. 

way,  dusty  with  its  string  of  returning  carriages,  and  enter 
ed  the  secluded  lane.  The  breeze  had  died  away,  the  air 
was  full  of  insect-sounds,  and  the  warm  light  of  the  sink 
ing  sun  fell  upon  the  woods  and  meadows.  Nature  seem 
ed  penetrated  with  a  sympathy  with  her  own  inner  peace. 

But  the  crown  of  the  benignant  day  was  yet  to  come. 
A  quick  footstep  followed  her,  and  ere  long  a  voice,  near 
at  hand,  called  her  by  name. 

She  stopped,  turned,  and  for  a  moment  they  stood 
silent,  face  to  face. 

"  I  knew  thee,  Richard  !  "  at  last  she  said,  in  a  trem 
bling  voice  ;  "  may  the  Lord  bless  thee  !  " 

Tears  were  in  the  eyes  of  both. 

"  He  has  blessed  me,"  Richard  answered,  in  a  reverent 
tone  ;  "  and  this  is  His  last  and  sweetest  mercy.  Asenath, 
let  me  hear  that  thee  forgives  me." 

"  I  have  forgiven  thee  long  ago,  Richard — forgiven, 
but  not  forgotten." 

The  hush  of  sunset  was  on  the  forest,  as  they  walked 
onward,  side  by  side,  exchanging  their  mutual  histories. 
Not  a  leaf  stirred  in  the  crowns  of  the  tall  trees,  and  the 
dusk,  creeping  along  between  their  stems,  brought  with  it 
a  richer  woodland  odor.  Their  voices  were  low  and  sub 
dued,  as  if  an  angel  of  God  were  hovering  in  the  shadows, 
and  listening,  or  God  Himself  looked  down  upon  them 
from  the  violet  sky. 

At  last  Richard  stopped. 

"  Asenath,"  said  he,  "  does  thee  remember  that  spot 
on  the  banks  of  the  creek,  where  the  rudbeckias  grew  ?  " 


FRIEND    ELI'S    DAUGHTER.  28 1 

"  I  remember  it,"  she  answered,  a  girlish  blush  rising 
to  her  face. 

"  If  I  were  to  say  to  thee  now  what  I  said  to  thee 
there,  what  would  be  thy  answer  ? " 

Her  words  came  brokenly. 

"  I  would  say  to  thee,  Richard, — 'I  can  trust  thee,— 
I  do  love  thee  ! '  " 

"  Look  at  me,  Asenath." 

Her  eyes,  beaming  with  a  clearer  light  than  even  then 
when  she  first  confessed,  were  lifted  to  his.  She  placed 
her  hands  gently  upon  his  shoulders,  and  bent  her  head 
upon  his  breast.  He  tenderly  lifted  it  again,  and,  for  the 
first  time,  her  virgin  lips  knew  the  kiss  of  man. 


MISS   BARTRAM'S  TROUBLE. 


T  was  a  day  of  unusual  excitement  at  the 
Rambo  farm-house.  On  the  farm,  it  is 
true,  all  things  were  in  their  accustomed 
order,  and  all  growths  did  their  accustomed 
credit  to  the  season.  The  fences  were  in 
good  repair ;  the  cattle  were  healthy  and 
gave  promise  of  the  normal  increase,  and  the  young  corn 
was  neither  strangled  with  weeds  nor  assassinated  by 
cut-worms.  Old  John  Rambo  was  gradually  allowing 
his  son,  Henry,  to  manage  in  his  stead,  and  the  latter 
shrewdly  permitted  his  father  to  believe  that  he  exercised 
the  ancient  authority.  Leonard  Clare,  the  strong  young  fel 
low  who  had  been  taken  from  that  shiftless  adventurer,  his 
father,  when  a  mere  child,  and  brought  up  almost  as  one 
of  the  family,  and  who  had  worked  as  a  joiner's  apprentice 
during  the  previous  six  months,  had  come  back  for  the 
harvest  work ;  so  the  Rambos  were  forehanded,  and 
probably  as  well  satisfied  as  it  is  possible  for  Pennsyl 
vania  farmers  to  be. 

In  the  house,  also,  Mrs.  Priscilla  Rambo  was  not  se 
verely  haunted  by  the  spectre  of  any  neglected  duty.     The 


284  TALES   OF  HOME. 

simple  regular  routine  of  the  household  could  not  be 
changed  under  her  charge  ;  each  thing  had  its  appropriate 
order  of  performance,  must  be  done,  and  was  done.  If 
the  season  were  backward,  at  the  time  appointed  for  white 
washing  or  soap- making,  so  much  the  worse  for  the  sea 
son  ;  if  the  unhatched  goslings  were  slain  by  thunder, 
she  laid  the  blame  on  the  thunder.  And  if — but  no,  it  is 
quite  impossible  to  suppose  that,  outside  of  those  two 
inevitable,  fearful  house-cleaning  weeks  in  each  year,  there 
could  have  been  any  disorder  in  the  cold  prim,  varnish- 
odored  best  rooms,  sacred  to  company. 

It  was  Miss  Betty  Rambo,  whose  pulse  beat  some  ten 
strokes  faster  than  its  wont,  as  she  sat  down  with  the  rest 
to  their  early  country  dinner.  Whether  her  brother  Hen 
ry's  participated  in  the  accelerated  movement  could  not 
be  guessed  from  his  demeanor.  She  glanced  at  him  now 
and  then,  with  bright  eyes  and  flushed  cheeks,  eager  to 
speak  yet  shrinking  from  the  half  magisterial  air  which  was 
beginning  to  supplant  his  old  familiar  banter.  Henry  was 
changing  with  his  new  responsibility,  as  she  admitted  to 
herself  with  a  sort  of  dismay  ;  he  had  the  airs  of  an  in 
dependent  farmer,  and  she  remained  only  a  farmer's  daugh 
ter,  — without  any  acknowledged  rights,  until  she  should 
acquire  them  all,  at  a  single  blow,  by  marriage. 

Nevertheless,  he  must  have  felt  what  was  in  her  mind  ; 
for,  as  he  cut  out  the  quarter  of  a  dried  apple  pie,  he  said 
carelessly : 

"  I  must  go  down  to  the  Lion,  this  afternoon.  There's 
a  fresh  drove  of  Maryland  cattle  just  come." 


MISS  BARTRAM'S  TROUBLE.  285 

"  Oh  Harry  !  "  cried  Betty,  in  real  distress. 

"  I  know,"  he  answered  ;  "  but  as  Miss  Bartram  is  going 
to  stay  two  weeks,  shell  keep.  She's  not  like  a  drove, 
that's  here  one  day,  and  away  the  next.  Besides,  it  is 
precious  little  good  I  shall  have  of  her  society,  until  you 
two  have  used  up  all  your  secrets  and  small  talk.  I  know 
how  it  is  with  girls.  Leonard  will  drive  over  to  meet  the 
train." 

"  Won't  I  do  on  a  pinch  ? "  Leonard  asked. 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure,"  said  Betty,  a  little  embarrassed, 
'•'  only  Alice — Miss  Bartram — might  expect  Harry,  because 
her  brother  came  for  me  when  I  went  up." 

"If  that's  all,  make  yourself  easy,  Bet,"  Henry  an 
swered,  as  he  rose  from  the  table.  "  There's  a  mighty  dif 
ference  between  here  and  there.  Unless  you  mean  to 
turn  us  into  a  town  family  while  she  stays — high  quality, 
eh?" 

"  Go  along  to  your  cattle !  there's  not  much  quality, 
high  or  low,  where  you  are." 

Betty  was  indignant ;  but  the  annoyance  exhausted  it 
self  healthfully  while  she  was  clearing  away  the  dishes  and 
restoring  the  room  to  its  order,  so  that  when  Leonard 
drove  up  to  the  gate  with  the  lumbering,  old-fashioned 
carriage  two  hours  afterwards,  she  came  forth  calm,  cheer 
ful,  fresh  as  a  pink  in  her  pink  muslin,  and  entirely  the 
good,  sensible  country-girl  she  was. 

Two  or  three  years  before,  she  and  Miss  Alice  Bartram, 
daughter  of  the  distinguished  lawyer  in  the  city,  had  been 
room-mates  at  the  Nereid  Seminary  for  Young  Ladies. 


286  TALES   OF   HOME. 

Each  liked  the  other  for  the  contrast  to  her  own  self; 
both  were  honest,  good  and  lovable,  but  Betty  had  the 
stronger  nerves  and  a  practical  sense  which  seemed  to  be 
admirable  courage  in  the  eyes  of  Miss  Alice,  whose  in 
stincts  were  more  delicate,  whose  tastes  were  fine  and 
high,  and  who  could  not  conceive  of  life  without  certain 
luxurious  accessories.  A  very  cordial  friendship  sprang  up 
between  them, — not  the  effusive  girl-love,  with  its  iterative 
kisses,  tears,  and  flow  of  loosened  hair,  but  springing 
from  the  respect  inspired  by  sound  and  positive  qualities. 

The  winter  before,  Betty  had  been  invited  to  visit  her 
friend  in  the  city,  and  had  passed  a  very  excited  and  de 
lightful  week  in  the  stately  Bartram  mansion.  If  she 
were  at  first  a  little  fluttered  by  the  manners  of  the  new 
world,  she  was  intelligent  enough  to  carry  her  own  na 
ture  frankly  through  it,  instead  of  endeavoring  to  assume 
its  character.  Thus  her  little  awkwardnesses  became 
originalities,  and  she  was  almost  popular  in  the  lofty  cir 
cle  when  she  withdrew  from  it.  It  was  therefore,  per 
haps,  slightly  inconsistent  in  Betty,  that  she  was  not  quite 
sure  how  Miss  Bartram  would  accept  the  reverse  side  of 
this  social  experience.  She  imagined  it  easier  to  look 
down  and  make  allowances,  as  a  host,  than  as  a  guest ; 
she  could  not  understand  that  the  charm  of  the  change 
might  be  fully  equal. 

It  was  lovely  weather,  as  they  drove  up  the  sweet, 
ever-changing  curves  of  the  Brandywine  valley.  The 
woods  fairly  laughed  in  the  clear  sunlight,  and  the  soft, 
incessant,  shifting  breezes.  Leonard,  in  his  best  clothes, 


MISS  BARTRAM'S  TROUBLE.  287 

and  with  a  smoother  gloss  on  his  brown  haiiysang  to 
himself  as  he  urged  the  strong-boned  horses  into  a  trot 
along  the  levels  ;  and  Betty  finally  felt  so  quietly  happy 
that  she  forgot  to  be  nervous.  When  they  reached  the 
station  they  walked  up  and  down  the  long  platform  to 
gether,  until  the  train  from  the  city  thundered  up,  and 
painfully  restrained  its  speed.  Then  Betty,  catching 
sight  of  a  fawn-colored  travelling  dress  issuing  from  the 
ladies'  car,  caught  hold  of  Leonard's  arm,  and  cried  : 
"  There  she  is  !  " 

Miss  Bartram  heard  the  words,  and  looked  down 
with  a  bright,  glad  expression  on  her  face.  It  was  not  her 
beauty  that  made  Leonard's  heart  suddenly  stop  beating ; 
for  she  was  not  considered  a  beauty,  in  society.  It  was 
something  rarer  than  perfect  beauty,  yet  even  more  diffi 
cult  to  describe, — a  serene,  unconscious  grace,  a  pure, 
lofty  maturity  of  womanhood,  such  as  our  souls  bow  down 
to  in  the  Santa  Barbara  of  Palma  Vecchio.  Her  features 
were  not  "  faultlessly  regular,"  but  they  were  informed 
with  the  finer  harmonies  of  her  character.  She  was  a 
woman,  at  whose  feet  a  noble  man  might  kneel,  lay  his 
forehead  on  her  knee,  confess  his  sins,  and  be  pardoned. 

She  stepped  down  to  the  platform,  and  Betty's  arms 
were  about  her.  After  a  double  embrace  she  gently  dis 
engaged  herself,  turned  to  Leonard,  gave  him  her  hand, 
and  said,  with  a  smile  which  was  delightfully  frank  and 
cordial :  "  I  will  not  wait  for  Betty's  introduction,  Mr. 
Rambo.  She  has  talked  to  me  so  much  of  her  brother 
Harry,  that  I  quite  know  you  already." 


288  TALES    OF    HOME. 

Leonard  could  neither  withdraw  his  eyes  nor  his  hand. 
It  was  like  a  double  burst  of  warmth  and  sunshine,  in 
which  his  breast  seemed  to  expand,  his  stature  to  grow, 
and  his  whole  nature  to  throb  with  some  new  and  won 
derful  force.  A  faint  color  came  into  Miss  Bartram's 
cheeks,  as  they  stood  thus,  for  a  moment,  face  to  face. 
She  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  him  to  speak,  but  of  this  he 
never  thought ;  had  any  words  come  to  his  mind,  his 
tongue'  could  not  have  uttered  them. 

"  It  is  not  Harry,"  Betty  explained,  striving  to  hide 
her  embarrassment.  "  This  is  Leonard  Clare,  who  lives 
with  us." 

"  Then  I  do  not  know  you  so  well  as  I  thought,"  Miss 
Bartram  said  to  him  ;  "  it  is  the  beginning  of  a  new  ac 
quaintance,  after  all." 

"  There  isn't  no  harm  done,"  Leonard  answered,  and 
instantly  feeling  the  awkwardness  of  the  words,  blushed 
so  painfully  that  Miss  Bartram  felt  the  inadequacy  of  her 
social  tact  to  relieve  so  manifest  a  case  of  distress.  But 
she  did,  instinctively,  what  was  really  best :  she  gave 
Leonard  the  check  for  her  trunk,  divided  her  satchels 
with  Betty,  and  walked  to  the  carriage. 

He  did  not  sing,  as  he  drove  homewards  down  the 
valley.  Seated  on  the  trunk,  in  front,  he  quietly  governed 
the  horses,  while  the  two  girls,  on  the  seat  behind  him, 
talked  constantly  and  gaily.  Only  the  rich,  steady  tones 
of  Miss  Bartram's  voice  would  make  their  way  into  his  ears, 
and  every  light,  careless  sentence  printed  itself  upon  his 
memory.  They  came  to  him  as  if  from  some  inaccessible 


MISS  BARTRAM'S  TROUBLE.  289 

planet.  Poor  fellow  !  he  was  not  the  first  to  feel  "  the  de 
sire  of  the  moth  for  the  star." 

When  they  reached  the  Rambo  farm-house,  it  was  nec 
essary  that  he  should  give  his  hand  to  help  her  down  from 
the  clumsy  carriage.  He  held  it  but  a  moment ;  yet  in 
that  moment  a  gentle  pulse  throbbed  upon  his  hard  palm, 
and  he  mechanically  set  his  teeth,  to  keep  down  the  im 
pulse  which  made  him  wild  to  hold  it  there  forever. 
"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Clare  !  "  said  Miss  Bartram,  and  pass 
ed  into  the  house.  When  he  followed  presently,  shoulder 
ing  her  trunk  into  the  upper  best-room,  and  kneeling  upon 
the  floor  to  unbuckle  the  straps,  she  found  herself  wonder 
ing  :  "  Is  this  a  knightly  service,  or  the  menial  duty  of  a 
porter  ?  Can  a  man  be  both  sensitive  and  ignorant,  chiv 
alrous  and  vulgar  ? " 

The  question  was  not  so  easily  decided,  though  no  one 
guessed  how  much  Miss  Bartram  pondered  it,  during  the 
succeeding  days.  She  insisted,  from  the  first,  that  her 
coming  should  make  no  change  in  the  habits  of  the  house 
hold  ;  she  rose  in  the  cool,  dewy  summer  dawns,  dined  at 
noon  in  the  old  brown  room  beside  the  kitchen,  and  only 
differed  from  the  Rambos  in  sitting  at  her  moonlit  win 
dow,  and  breathing  the  subtle  odors  of  a  myriad  leaves, 
long  after  Betty  was  sleeping  the  sleep  of  health. 

It  was  strange  how  frequently  the  strong,  not  very 
graceful  figure  of  Leonard  Clare  marched  through  these 
reveries.  She  occasionally  spoke  to  him  at  the  common 
table,  or  as  she  passed  the  borders  of  the  hay-field,  where 
he  and  Henry  were  at  work  :  but  his  words  to  her  were 

'3 


2Cp  TALES    OF    HOME. 

always  few  and  constrained.  What  was  there  in  his  eyes 
that  haunted  her  ?  Not  merely  a  most  reverent  admiration 
of  her  pure  womanly  refinement,  although  she  read  that 
also  ;  not  a  fear  of  disparagement,  such  as  his  awkward 
speech  implied,  but  something  which  seemed  to  seek 
agonizingly  for  another  language  than  that  of  the  lips, — 
something  which  appealed  to  her  from  equal  ground, 
and  asked  for  an  answer. 

One  evening  she  met  him  in  the  lane,  as  she  returned 
from  the  meadow.  She  carried  a  bunch  of  flowers,  with 
delicate  blue  and  lilac  bells,  arid  asked  him  the  name. 

"  Them's  Brandywine  cowslips,"  he  answered  j  "  I 
never  heard  no  other  name.'' 

"May  I  correct  you ? "  she  said,  gently,  and  with  a 
smile  which  she  meant  to  be  playful.  "  I  suppose  the 
main  thing  is  to  speak  one's  thought,  but  there  are  neat 
and  orderly  ways,  and  there  are  careless  ways."  There 
upon  she  pointed  out  the  inaccuracies  of  his  answer,  he 
standing  beside  her,  silent  and  attentive.  When  she 
ceased,  he  did  not  immediately  reply. 

"  You  will  take  it  in  good  part,  will  you  not  ? "  she 
continued.  "  I  hope  I  have  not  offended  you." 

"  No  !  "  he  exclaimed,  firmly,  lifting  his  head,  and 
looking  at  her.  The  inscrutable  expression  in  his  dark 
gray  eyes  was  stronger  than  before,  and  all  his  features 
were  more  clearly  drawn.  He  reminded  her  of  a  picture 
of  Adam  which  she  had  once  seen :  there  was  the  same 
rather  low  forehead,  straight,  even  brows,  full  yet  strong 
mouth,  and  that  broader  form  of  chin  which  repeats  and 


MISS  BARTRAM'S  TROUBLE.  291 

balances  the  character  of  the  forehead.  He  was  not  posi 
tively  handsome,  but  from  head  to  foot  he  expressed  a 
fresh,  sound  quality  of  manhood. 

Another  question  flashed  across  Miss  Bartram's  mind  : 
Is  life  long  enough  to  transform  this  clay  into  marble  ? 
Here  is  a  man  in  form,  and  with  all  the  dignity  of  the  per 
fect  masculine  nature  :  shall  the  broad,  free  intelligence, 
the  grace  and  sweetness,  the  taste  and  refinement,  which 
the  best  culture  gives,  never  be  his  also  ?  If  not,  woman 
must  be  content  with  faulty  representations  of  her  ideal. 

So  musing,  she  walked  on  to  the  farm-house.  Leon 
ard  had  picked  up  one  of  the  blossoms  she  had  let  fall, 
and  appeared  to  be  curiously  examining  it.  If  he  had 
apologized  for  his  want  of  grammar,  or  promised  to  re 
form  it,  her  interest  in  him  might  have  diminished  ;  but  his 
silence,  his  simple,  natural  obedience  to  some  powerful 
inner  force,  whatever  it  was,  helped  to  strengthen  that 
phantom  of  him  in  her  mind,  which  was  now  beginning  to 
be  a  serious  trouble. 

Once  again,  the  day  before  she  left  the  Rambo  farm 
house  to  return  to  the  city,  she  came  upon  him,  alone. 
She  had  wandered  off  to  the  Brandywine,  to  gather  ferns 
at  a  rocky  point  where  some  choice  varieties  were  to  be 
found.  There  were  a  few  charming  clumps,  half-way  up 
a  slaty  cliff,  which  it  did  not  seem  possible  to  scale,  and 
she  was  standing  at  the  base,  looking  up  in  vain  longing, 
when  a  voice,  almost  at  her  ear,  said  : 

"  Which  ones  do  you  want  ? " 

Afterwards,  she  wondered  that  she   did   not  start  at 


292  TALES    OF    HOME. 

the  voice.  Leonard  had  come  up  the  road  from  one  of 
the  lower  fields  :  he  wore  neither  coat  nor  waistcoat,  and 
his  shirt,  open  at  the  throat,  showed  the  firm,  beautiful 
white  of  the  flesh  below  the  strong  tan  of  his  neck.  Miss 
Bartram  noticed  the  sinewy  strength  and  elasticity  of  his 
form,  yet  when  she  looked  again  at  the  ferns,  she 
shook  her  head,  and  answered  : 

"  None,  since  I  cannot  have  them." 

Without  saying  a  word,  he  took  off  his  shoes,  and  com 
menced  climbing  the  nearly  perpendicular  face  of  the 
cliff.  He  had  done  it  before,  many  a  time  ;  but  Miss 
Bartram,  although  she  was  familiar  with  such  exploits 
from  the  pages  of  many  novels,  had  never  seen  the  reality, 
and  it  quite  took  away  her  breath. 

When  he  descended  with  the  ferns  in  his  hand,  she 
said  :  "  It  was  a  great  risk  ;  I  wish  I  had  not  wanted 
them." 

"  It  was  no  risk  for  me,"  he  answered. 

"  What  can  I  send  you  in  return  ? "  she  asked,  as 
they  walked  forwards.  "  I  am  going  home  to-morrow." 

"  Betty  told  me,"  Leonard  said  ;  "  please,  wait  one 
minute." 

He  stepped  down  to  the  bank  of  the  stream,  washed 
his  hands  carefully  in  the  clear  water,  and  came  back  to 
her,  holding  them,  dripping,  at  his  sides. 

"  I  am  very  ignorant,"  he  then  continued, — "  ignorant 
and  rough.  You  are  good,  to  want  to  send  me  something^ 
but  I  want  nothing.  Miss  Bartram,  you  are  very  good." 

He  paused ;  but  with  all  her  tact  and  social  experience, 
she  did  not  know  what  to  say. 


MISS    BARTRAMS    TROUBLE.  293 

"  Would  you  do  one  little  thing  for  me — not  for  the 
ferns,  that  was  nothing — no  more  than  you  do,  without 
thinking,  for  all  your  friends  ? J' 

"  Oh,  surely  !  "  she  said. 

"  Might  I — might  I — now, — there'll  be  no  chance  to 
morrow, — shake  hands  with  you  ?  " 

The  words  seemed  to  be  forced  from  him  by  the 
strength  of  a  fierce  will.  Both  stopped,  involuntarily. 

"  It's  quite  dry,  you  see,"  said  he,  offering  his  hand. 
Her  own  sank  upon  it,  palm  to  palm,  and  the  fingers 
softly  closed  over  each,  as  if  with  the  passion  and  sweet 
ness  of  a  kiss.  Miss  Bartram's  heart  came  to  her  eyes, 
and  read,  at  last,  the  question  in  Leonard's.  It  was  :  "  I 
as  man,  and  you,  as  woman,  are  equals  ;  will  you  give  me 
time  to  reach  you  ?  "  What  her  eyes  replied  she  knew  not. 
A  mighty  influence  drew  her  on,  and  a  mighty  doubt  and 
dread  restrained  her.  One  said  :  "  Here  is  your  lover, 
your  husband,  your  cherished  partner,  left  by  fate  below 
your  station,  yet  whom  you  may  lift  to  your  side  !  Shall 
man,  alone,  crown  the  humble  maiden, — stoop  to  love, 
and,  loving,  ennoble  ?  Be  you  the  queen,  and  love  him 
by  the  royal  right  of  womanhood  !  "  But  the  other  stern 
ly  whispered  :  "  How  shall  your  fine  and  delicate  fibres 
be  knit  into  this  coarse  texture  ?  Ignorance,  which  years 
cannot  wash  away, — low  instincts,  what  do  you  know  ? — 
all  the  servile  side  of  life,  which  is  turned  from  you, — 
what  madness  to  choose  this,  because  some  current  of 
earthly  magnetism  sets  along  your  nerves?  He  loves 
you :  what  of  that  ?  You  are  a  higher  being  to  him,  and 


294  TALES    OF    HOME. 

he  stupidly  adores  you.     Think, — yes,  dare  to  think  of  all 
the  prosaic  realities  of  life,  shared  with  him  ! " 

Miss  Bartram  felt  herself  growing  dizzy.  Behind  the 
impulse  which  bade  her  cast  herself  upon  his  breast 
swept  such  a  hot  wave  of  shame  and  pain  that  her  face 
burned,  and  she  dropped  her  eyelids  to  shut  out  the  sight 
of  his  face.  But,  for  one  endless  second,  the  sweeter 
voice  spoke  through  their  clasped  hands.  Perhaps  he 
kissed  hers ;  she  did  not  know ;  she  only  heard  herself 
murmur : 

"  Good-bye  !     Pray  go  on ;  I  will  rest  here." 

She  sat  down  upon  a  bank  by  the  roadside,  turned 
away  her  head,  and  closed  her  eyes.  It  was  long  before 
the  tumult  in  her  nature  subsided.  If  she  reflected,  with 
a  sense  of  relief,  "  nothing  was  said,"  the  thought  imme 
diately  followed,  "  but  all  is  known."  It  was  impossible, 
— yes,  clearly  impossible ;  and  then  came  such  a  wild 
longing,  such  an  assertion  of  the  right  and  truth  and  jus 
tice  of  love,  as  made  her  seem  a  miserable  coward,  the 
veriest  slave  of  conventionalities. 

Out  of  this  struggle  dawned  self-knowledge,  and  the 
strength  which  is  born  of  it.  When  she  returned  to  the 
house,  she  was  pale  and  weary,  but  capable  of  respond 
ing  to  Betty  Rambo's  constant  cheerfulness.  The  next 
day  she  left  for  the  city,  without  having  seen  Leonard 
Clare  again. 

II. 

HENRY  RAMBO  married,  and  brought  a  new  mistress 
to  the  farm-house.  Betty  married,  and  migrated  to  a 


MISS  BARTRAM'S  TROUBLE.  295 

new  home  in  another  part  of  the  State.  Leonard  Clare 
went  back  to  his  trade,  and  returned  no  more  in  harvest- 
time.  So  the  pleasant  farm  by  the  Brandywine,  having 
served  its  purpose  as  a  background,  will  be  seen  no  more 
in  this  history. 

Miss  Bartram's  inmost  life,  as  a  woman,  was  no  lon 
ger  the  same.  The  point  of  view  from  which  she  had 
beheld  the  world  was  shifted,  and  she  was  obliged  to 
remodel  all  her  feelings  and  ideas  to  conform  to  it.  But 
the  process  was  gradual,  and  no  one  stood  near  enough 
to  her  to  remark  it.  She  was  occasionally  suspected  of 
that  "eccentricity"  which,  in  a  woman  of  five-and-twenty, 
is  looked  upon  as  the  first  symptom  of  a  tendency  to  old- 
maidenhood,  but  which  is  really  the  sign  of  an  earnest 
heart  struggling  with  the  questions  of  life.  In  the  society 
of  cities,  most  men  give  only  the  shallow,  flashy  surface 
of  their  natures  to  the  young  women  they  meet,  and  Miss 
Bartram,  after  that  revelation  of  the  dumb  strength  of  an 
ignorant  man,  sometimes  grew  very  impatient  of  the  plati 
tudes  and  affectations  which  came  to  her  clad  in  elegant 
words,  and  accompanied  by  irreproachable  manners. 

She  had  various  suitors  ;  for  that  sense  of  grace  and 
repose  and  sweet  feminine  power,  which  hung  around 
her  like  an  atmosphere,  attracted  good  and  true  men  to 
wards  her.  To  some,  indeed,  she  gave  that  noble,  un 
troubled  friendship  which  is  always  possible  between  the 
best  of  the  two  sexes,  and  when  she  was  compelled  to 
deny  the  more  intimate  appeal,  it  was  done  with  such 
frank  sorrow,  such  delicate  tenderness,  that  she  never  lost 


296  TALES    OF    HOME. 

the  friend  in  losing  the  lover.  But,  as  one  year  after  an 
other  went  by,  and  the  younger  members  of  her  family 
fell  off  into  their  separate  domestic  orbits,  she  began  to 
shrink  a  little  at  the  perspective  of  a  lonely  life,  growing 
lonelier  as  it  receded  from  the  Present. 

By  this  time,  Leonard  Clare  had  become  almost  a 
dream  to  her.  She  had  neither  seen  him  nor  heard  of 
him  since  he  let  go  her  hand  on  that  memorable  evening 
beside  the  stream.  He  was  a  strange,  bewildering  chance, 
a  cypher  concealing  a  secret  which  she  could  not  intelli 
gently  read.  Why  should  she  keep  the  memory  of  that 
power  which  was,  perhaps,  some  unconscious  quality  of 
his  nature  (no,  it  was  not  so  !  something  deeper  than  rea 
son  cried  :),  or  long  since  forgotten,  if  felt,  by  him  ? 

The  man  whom  she  most  esteemed  came  back  to  her. 
She  knew  the  ripeness  and  harmony  of  his  intellect,  the 
nobility  of  his  character,  and  the  generosity  of  a  feeling 
which  would  be  satisfied  with  only  a  partial  return.  She 
felt  sure,  also,  that  she  should  never  possess  a  sentiment 
nearer  to  love  than  that  which  pleaded  his  cause  in  her 
heart.  But  her  hand  lay  quiet  in  his,  her  pulses  were 
calm  when  he  spoke,  and  his  face,  manly  and  true  as  it 
was,  never  invaded  her  dreams.  All  questioning  was 
vain  ;  her  heart  gave  no  solution  of  the  riddle.  Perhaps 
her  own  want  was  common  to  all  lives:  then  she  was 
cherishing  a  selfish  ideal,  and  rejecting  the  positive  good 
offered  to  her  hands. 

After  long  hesitation  she  yielded.  The  predictions  of 
society  came  to  naught ;  instead  of  becoming  an  "  eccen- 


MISS  BARTRAM'S  TROUBLE.  297 

trie  "  spinster,  Miss  Bartram  was  announced  to  be  the 
affianced  bride  of  Mr.  Lawrie.  A  few  weeks  and  months 
rolled  around,  and  when  the  wedding-day  came,  she  al 
most  hailed  it  as  the  port  of  refuge,  where  she  should  find 
a  placid  and  peaceful  life. 

They  were  married  by  an  aged  clergyman,  a  relative 
of  the  bridegroom.  The  cross-street  where  his  chapel 
stood,  fronting  a  Methodist  church — both  of  the  simplest 
form  of  that  architecture  fondly  supposed  to  be  Gothic, — 
was  quite  blocked  up  by  the  carriages  of  the  party.  The 
pews  were  crowded  with  elegant  guests,  the  altar  was 
decorated  with  flowers,  and  the  ceremony  lacked  nothing 
of  its  usual  solemn  beauty.  The  bride  was  pale,  but 
strikingly  calm  and  self-possessed,  and  when  she  moved 
towards  the  door  as  Mrs.  Lawrie,  on  her  husband's  arm, 
many  matrons,  recalling  their  own  experience,  marvelled 
at  her  unflurried  dignity. 

Just  as  they  passed  out  the  door,  and  the  bridal  car 
riage  was  summoned,  a  singular  thing  happened.  An 
other  bridal  carriage  drew  up  from  the  opposite  side,  and 
a  newly  wedded  pair  came  forth  from  the  portal  of  the 
Methodist  church.  Both  parties  stopped,  face  to  face, 
divided  only  by  the  narrow  street.  Mrs.  Lawrie  first 
noticed  the  flushed  cheeks  of  the  other  bride,  her  white 
dress,  rather  showy  than  elegant,  and  the  heavy  gold  or 
naments  she  wore.  Then  she  turned  to  the  bridegroom. 
He  was  tall  and  well-formed,  dressed  like  a  gentleman,  but 
like  one  who  is  not  yet  unconscious  of  his  dress,  and  had 
the  air  of  a  man  accustomed  to  exercise  some  authority. 

13* 


298  TALES    OF    HOME. 

She  saw  his  face,  and  instantly  all  other  faces  disap 
peared.  From  the  opposite  brink  of  a  tremendous  gulf 
she  looked  into  his  eyes,  and  their  blended  ray  of  love 
and  despair  pierced  her  to  the  heart.  There  was  a  roaring 
in  her  ears,  followed  a  long  sighing  sound,  like  that  of  the 
wind  on  some  homeless  waste  ;  she  leaned  more  heavily 
on  her  husband's  arm,  leaned  against  his  shoulder,  slid 
slowly  down  into  his  supporting  clasp,  and  knew  no 
more. 

"  She's  paying  for  her  mock  composure,  after  all," 
said  the  matrons.  "  It  must  have  been  a  great  effort." 


III. 

TEN  years  afterwards,  Mrs.  Lawrie  went  on  board  a 
steamer  at  Southampton,  bound  for  New  York.  She 
was  travelling  alone,  having  been  called  suddenly  from 
Europe  by  the  approaching  death  of  her  aged  father. 
For  two  or  three  days  after  sailing,  the  thick,  rainy  spring 
weather  kept  all  below,  except  a  few  hardy  gentlemen  who 
crowded  together  on  the  lee  of  the  smoke-stack,  and  kept 
up  a  stubborn  cheerfulness  on  a  very  small  capital  of  com 
fort.  There  were  few  cabin-passengers  on  board,  but  the 
usual  crowd  of  emigrants  in  the  steerage. 

Mrs.  Lawrie's  face  had  grown  calmer  and  colder  du 
ring  these  years.  There  was  yet  no  gray  in  her  hair,  no 
wrinkles  about  her  clear  eyes  ;  each  feature  appeared  to 
be  the  same,  but  the  pale,  monotonous  color  which  had 
replaced  the  warm  bloom  of  her  youth,  gave  them  a  dif- 


MISS  BARTRAM'S  TROUBLE.  299 

ferent  character.  The  gracious  dignity  of  her  manner,  the 
mellow  tones  of  her  voice,  still  expressed  her  unchanging 
goodness,  yet  those  who  met  her  were  sure  to  feel,  in  some 
inexplicable  way,  that  to  be  good  is  not  always  to  be  hap 
py.  Perhaps,  indeed,  her  manner  was  older  than  her  face 
and  form  :  she  still  attracted  the  interest  of  men,  but  with 
a  certain  doubt  and  reserve. 

Certain  it  is  that  when  she  made  her  appearance  on 
deck,  glad  of  the  blue  sky  and  sunshine,  and  threw  back 
her  hood  to  feel  the  freshness  of  the  sea  air,  all  eyes  fol 
lowed  her  movements,  except  those  of  a  forlorn  individ 
ual,  who,  muffled  in  his  cloak  and  apparently  sea-sick,  lay 
upon  one  of  the  benches.  The  captain  presently  joined 
her,  and  the  gentlemen  saw  that  she  was  bright  and  per 
fectly  self-possessed  in  conversation  :  some  of  them  im 
mediately  resolved  to  achieve  an  acquaintance.  The  dull, 
passive  existence  of  the  beginning  of  every  voyage,  seemed 
to  be  now  at  an  end.  It  was  time  for  the  little  society  of 
the  vessel  to  awake,  stir  itself,  and  organize  a  life  of  its 
own,  for  the  few  remaining  days. 

That  night,  as  Mrs.  Lawrie  was  sleeping  in  her  berth, 
she  suddenly  awoke  with  a  singular  feeling  of  dread  and 
suspense.  She  listened  silently,  but  for  some  time  distin 
guished  none  other  than  the  small  sounds  of  night  on  ship 
board — the  indistinct  orders,  the  dragging  of  ropes,  the 
creaking  of  timbers,  the  dull,  regular  jar  of  the  engine,  and 
the  shuffling  noise  of  feet  overhead.  But,  ere  long,  she 
seemed  to  catch  faint,  distant  sounds,  that  seemed  like 
cries ;  then  came  hurry  and  confusion  on  deck  ;  then 


30O  TALES    OF    HOME. 

voices  in  the  cabin,  one  of  which  said  :  "  they  never  can 
get  it  under,  at  this  rate  ! " 

She  rose,  dressed  herself  hastily,  and  made  her  way 
through  pale  and  excited  stewards,  and  the  bewildered 
passengers  who  were  beginning  to  rush  from  their  state 
rooms,  to  the  deck.  In  the  wild  tumult  which  prevailed, 
she  might  have  been  thrown  down  and  trampled  under 
foot,  had  not  a  strong  arm  seized  her  around  the  waist, 
and  borne  her  towards  the  stern,  where  there  were  but  few 
persons. 

"  Wait  here  !  "  said  a  voice,  and  her  protector  plunged 
into  the  crowd. 

She  saw,  instantly,  the  terrible  fate  which  had  fallen 
upon  the  vessel.  The  bow  was  shrouded  in  whirls  of 
smoke,  through  which  dull  red  flashes  began  to  show 
themselves  ;  and  all  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  deck  was 
filled  with  a  screaming,  struggling,  fighting  mass  of  des 
perate  human  beings.  She  saw  the  captain,  officers,  and 
a  few  of  the  crew  working  in  vain  against  the  disorder  : 
she  saw  the  boats  filled  before  they  were  lowered,  and 
heard  the  shrieks  as  they  were  capsized ;  she  saw  spars  and 
planks  and  benches  cast  overboard,  and  maddened  men 
plunging  after  them  ;  and  then,  like  the  sudden  opening 
of  the  mouth  of  Hell,  the  relentless,  triumphant  fire  burst 
through  the  forward  deck  and  shot  up  to  the  foreyard. 

She  was  leaning  against  the  mizen  shrouds,  between 
the  coils  of  rope.  Nobody  appeared  to  notice  her,  al 
though  the  quarter-deck  was  fast  filling  with  persons  driven 
back  by  the  fire,  yet  still  shrinking  from  the  terror  and 


MISS  BARTRAM'S  TROUBLE.  301 

uncertainty  of  the  sea.  She  thought :  "  It  is  but  death 
— why  should  I  fear  ?  The  waves  are  at  hand,  to  save  me 
from  all  suffering."  And  the  collective  horror  of  hundreds 
of  beings  did  not  so  overwhelm  her  as  she  had  both  fan 
cied  and  feared  :  the  tragedy  of  each  individual  life  was  lost 
in  the  confusion,  and  was  she  not  a  sharer  in  their  doom  ? 

Suddenly,  a  man  stood  before  her  with  a  cork  life- 
preserver  in  his  hands,  and  buckled  it  around  her  securely, 
under  the  arms.  He  was  panting  and  almost  exhausted, 
yet  he  strove  to  make  his  voice  firm,  and  even  cheerful,  as 
he  said : 

"  We  fought  the  cowardly  devils  as  long  as  there  was 
any  hope.  Two  boats  are  off,  and  two  capsized ;  in  ten 
minutes  more  every  soul  must  take  to  the  water.  Trust 
to  me,  and  I  will  save  you  or  die  with  you  ! " 

"  What  else  can  I  do  ? "  she  answered. 

With  a  few  powerful  strokes  of  an  axe,  he  broke  off 
the  top  of  the  pilot-house,  bound  two  or  three  planks  to 
it  with  ropes,  and  dragged  the  mass  to  the  bulwarks. 

"  The  minute  this  goes,"  he  then  said  to  her,  "  you 
go  after  it,  and  I  follow.  Keep  still  when  you  rise  to  the 
surface." 

She  left  the  shrouds,  took  hold  of  the  planks  at  his 
side,  and  they  heaved  the  rude  raft  into  the  sea.  In  an 
instant  she  was  seized  and  whirled  over  the  side  ;  she 
instinctively  held  her  breath,  felt  a  shock,  felt  herself 
swallowed  up  in  an  awful,  fathomless  coldness,  and  then 
found  herself  floating  below  the  huge  towering  hull  which 
slowly  drifted  away. 


302  TALES    OF    HOME. 

In  another  moment  there  was  one  at  her  side.  "  Lay 
your  hand  on  my  shoulder,"  he  said  ;  and  when  she  did 
so,  swam  for  the  raft,  which  they  soon  reached.  While 
she  supported  herself  by  one  of  the  planks  he  so  arranged 
and  bound  together  the  pieces  of  timber  that  in  a  short 
time  they  could  climb  upon  them  and  rest,  not  much 
washed  by  the  waves.  The  ship  drifted  further  and 
further,  casting  a  faint,  though  awful,  glare  over  the  sea, 
until  the  light  was  suddenly  extinguished,  as  the  hull  sank. 

The  dawn  was  in  the  sky  by  this  time,  and  as  it  broad 
ened  they  could  see  faint  specks  here  and  there,  where 
others,  like  themselves,  clung  to  drifting  spars.  Mrs.  Lawrie 
shuddered  with  cold  and  the  reaction  from  an  excitement 
which  had  been  far  more  powerful  than  she  knew  at  the  time. 

Her  preserver  then  took  off  his  coat,  wrapped  it 
around  her,  and  produced  a  pocket-flask,  saying ;  "  this 
will  support  us  the  longest ;  it  is  all  I  could  find,  or  bring 
with  me." 

She  sat,  leaning  against  his  shoulder,  though  partly 
turned  away  from  him  :  all  she  could  say  was  :  "  you  are 
very  good."  • 

After  awhile  he  spoke,  and  his  voice  seemed  changed 
to  her  ears.  "  You  must  be  thinking  of  Mr.  Lawrie. 
It  will,  indeed,  be  terrible  for  him  to  hear  of  the  disaster, 
before  knowing  that  you  are  saved." 

"God  has  spared  him  that  distress,"  she  answered. 
"  Mr.  Lawrie  died,  a  year  ago." 

She  felt  a  start  in  the  strong  frame  upon  which  she 
leaned.  After  a  few  minutes  of  silence,  he  slowly  shifted 


MISS    BARTRAM  S    TROUBLE.  303 

his  position  towards  her,  yet  still  without  facing  her,  and 
said,  almost  in  a  whisper : 

"  You  have  said  that  I  am  very  good.  Will  you  put 
your  hand  in  mine  ? " 

She  stretched  hers  eagerly  and  gratefully  towards  him. 
What  had  happened  ?  Through  all  the  numbness  of  her 
blood,  there  sprang  a  strange  new  warmth  from  his  strong 
palm,  and  a  pulse,  which  she  had  almost  forgotten  as  a 
dream  of  the  past,  began  to  beat  through  her  frame.  She 
turned  around  all  a-tremble,  and  saw  his  face  in  the  glow 
of  the  coming  day. 

"  Leonard  Clare  !  "  she  cried. 

"  Then  you  have  not  forgotten  me  ? " 

"  Could  one  forget,  when  the  other  remembers  ?" 

The  words  came  involuntarily  from  her  lips.  She 
felt  what  they  implied,  the  moment  afterwards,  and  said 
no  more.  But  he  kept  her  hand  in  his. 

"  Mrs.  Lawrie,"  he  began,  after  another  silence,  "  we 
are  hanging  by  a  hair  on  the  edge  of  life,  but  I  shall  glad 
ly  let  that  hair  break,  since  I  may  tell  you  now,  purely 
and  in  the  hearing  of  God,  how  I  have  tried  to  rise  to  you 
out  of  the  low  place  in  which  you  found  me.  At  first 
you  seemed  too  far  ;  but  you  yourself  led  me  the  first  step 
of  the  way,  and  I  have  steadily  kept  my  eyes  on  you,  and 
followed  it.  When  I  had  learned  my  trade,  I  came  to 
the  city.  No  labor  was  too  hard  for  me,  no  study  too 
difficult.  I  was  becoming  a  new  man,  I  saw  all  that  was 
still  lacking,  and  how  to  reach  it,  and  I  watched  you,  un 
known,  at  a  distance.  Then  I  heard  of  your  engagement : 


304  TALES    OF    HOME. 

you  were  lost,  and  something  of  which  I  had  begun  to 
dream,  became  insanity.  I  determined  to  trample  it  out 
of  my  life.  The  daughter  of  the  master-builder,  whose 
first  assistant  I  was,  had  always  favored  me  in  her  society ; 
and  I  soon  persuaded  her  to  love  me.  I  fancied,  too, 
that  I  loved  her  as  most  married  men  seemed  to  love  their 
wives ;  the  union  would  advance  me  to  a  partnership  in 
her  father's  business,  and  my  fortune  would  then  be  secur 
ed.  You  know  what  happened  j  but  you  do  not  know 
how  the  sight  of  your  face  planted  the  old  madness  again 
in  my  life,  and  made  me  a  miserable  husband,  a  misera 
ble  man  of  wealth,  almost  a  scoffer  at  the  knowledge  I 
had  acquired  for  your  sake. 

"  When  my  wife  died,  taking  an  only  child  with  her, 
there  was  nothing  left  to  me  except  the  mechanical  am 
bition  to  make  myself,  without  you,  what  I  imagined  I 
might  have  become,  through  you.  I  have  studied  and 
travelled,  lived  alone  and  in  society,  until  your  world 
seemed  to  be  almost  mine :  but  you  were  not  there ! " 

The  sun  had  risen,  while  they  sat,  rocking  on  their 
frail  support.  Her  hand  still  lay  in  his,  and  her  head 
rested  on  his  shoulder.  Every  word  he  spoke  sank  into 
her  heart  with  a  solemn  sweetness,  in  which  her  whole 
nature  was  silent  and  satisfied.  Why  should  she  speak  ? 
He  knew  all. 

Yes,  it  seemed  that  he  knew.  His  arm  stole  around 
her,  and  her  head  was  drawn  from  his  shoulder  to  the 
warm  breadth  of  his  breast.  Something  hard  pressed  her 
cheek,  and  she  lifted  her  hand  to  move  it  aside.  He 


MISS  BARTRAM'S  TROUBLE.  305 

drew  forth  a  flat  medallion  case  ;  and  to  the  unconscious 
question  in  her  face,  such  a  sad,  tender  smile  came  to  his 
lips,  that  she  could  not  repress  a  sudden  pain.  Was  it 
the  miniature  of  his  dead  wife  ? 

He  opened  the  case,  and  showed  her,  under  the  glass, 
a  faded,  pressed  flower. 

''What  is  it?  "she  asked. 

"  The  Brandywine  cowslip  you  dropped,  when  you 
spoke  to  me  in  the  lane.  Then  it  was  that  you  showed 
me  the  first  step  of  the  way." 

She  laid  her  head  again  upon  his  bosom.  Hour  after 
hour  they  sat,  and  the  light  swells  of  the  sea  heaved  them 
aimlessly  to  and  fro,  and  the  sun  burned  them,  and  the 
spray  drenched  their  limbs.  At  last  Leonard  Clare 
roused  himself  and  looked  around :  he  felt  numb  and 
faint,  and  he  saw,  also,  that  her  strength  was  rapidly 
failing. 

"  We  cannot  live  much  longer,  I  fear,"  he  said,  clasp 
ing  her  closely  in  his  arms.  "  Kiss  me  once,  darling,  an.d 
then  we  will  die." 

She  clung  to  him  and  kissed  him. 

"  There  is  life,  not  death,  in  your  lips ! "  he  cried. 
"  Oh,  God,  if  we  should  live  !  " 

He  rose  painfully  to  his  feet,  stood,  tottering,  on  the 
raft,  and  looked  across  the  waves.  Presently  he  began 
to  tremble,  then  to  sob  like  a  child,  and  at  last  spoke, 
through  his  tears  : 

"  A  sail !  a  sail  ! — and  heading  towards  us ! " 


MRS.  STRONGITHARM'S  REPORT. 

R.  EDITOR,— If  you  ever  read 
the  "  Burroak  Banner"  (which  you 
will  find  among  your  exchanges,  as 
the  editor  publishes  your  prospec 
tus  for  six  weeks  every  year,  and 
sends  no  bill  to  you)  my  name  will 
not  be  that  of  a  stranger.  Let  me  throw  aside  all  affec 
tation  of  humility,  and  say  that  I  hope  it  is  already  and  not 
unfavorably  familiar  to  you.  I  am  informed  by  those  who 
claim  to  know  that  the  manuscripts  of  obscure  writers  are 
passed  over  by  you  editors  without  examination — in  short, 
that  I  must  first  have  a  name,  if  I  hope  to  make  one.  The 
fact  that  an  article  of  three  hundred  and  seventy-five 
pages,  which  I  sent,  successively,  to  the  "  North  Ameri 
can  Review,"  the  "  Catholic  World,"  and  the  "  Radical," 
was  in  each  case  returned  to  me  with  my  knot  on  the  tape 
by  which  it  was  tied,  convinces  me  that  such  is  indeed  the 
case.  A  few  years  ago  I  should  not  have  meekly  submit 
ted  to  treatment  like  this;  but  late  experiences  have 
taught  me  the  vanity  of  many  womanly  dreams. 


308  TALES    OF    HOME. 

You  are  acquainted  with  the  part  I  took  (I  am  sure 
you  must  have  seen  it  in  the  "  Burroak  Banner "  eight 
years  ago)  in  creating  that  public  sentiment  in  our  favor 
which  invested  us  with  all  the  civil  and  political  rights  of 
men.  How  the  editors  of  the  "  Revolution,"  to  which  I 
subscribe,  and  the  conventions  in  favor  of  the  equal  rights 
of  women,  recently  held  in  Boston  and  other  cities,  have 
failed  to  notice  our  noble  struggle,  is  a  circumstance  for 
which  I  will  not  try  to  account.  I  will  only  say — and  it  is 
a  hint  which  some  persons  will  understand — that  there  are 
other  forms  of  jealousy  than  those  which  spring  from  love. 

It  is,  indeed,  incredible  that  so  little  is  known,  outside 
the  State  of  Atlantic,  of  the  experiment — I  mean  the 
achievement — of  the  last  eight  years.  While  the  war 
lasted,  we  did  not  complain  that  our  work  was  ignored ; 
but  now  that  our  sisters  in  other  States  are  acting  as  if  in 
complete  unconsciousness  of  what  we  have  done — now 
that  we  need  their  aid  and  they  need  ours  (but  in  differ 
ent  ways),  it  is  time  that  somebody  should  speak.  Were 
Selina  Whiston  living,  I  should  leave  the  task  to  her  pen  ; 
she  never  recovered  from  the  shock  and  mortification  of 
her  experiences  in  the  State  Legislature,  in  '64 — but  I 
will  not  anticipate  the  history.  Of  all  the  band  of  female 
iconoclasts,  as  the  Hon.  Mr.  Screed  called  us  in  jest — 
it  was  no  jest  afterwards,  his  image  being  the  first  to  go 
down — of  all,  I  say,  "some  are  married,  and  some  are 
dead,"  and  there  is  really  no  one  left  so  familiar  with  the 
circumstances  as  I  am,  and  equally  competent  to  give  a 
report  of  them. 


MRS.  STRONGITHARM'S  REPORT.         309 

Mr.  Spelter  (the  editor  of  the  "  Burroak  Banner") 
suggests  that  I  must  be  brief,  if  I  wish  my  words  to  reach 
the  ears  of  the  millions  for  whom  they  are  designed  ;  and 
I  shall  do  my  best  to  be  so.  If  I  were  not  obliged  to  be 
gin  at  the  very  beginning,  and  if  the  interests  of  Atlantic 
had  not  been  swallowed  up,  like  those  of  other  little  States, 
in  the  whirlpool  of  national  politics,  I  should  have  much 
less  to  say.  But  if  Mr.  George  Fenian  Brain  and  Mrs. 
Candy  Station  do  not  choose  to  inform  the  public  of  either 
the  course  or  the  results  of  our  struggle,  am  I  to  blame  ? 
If  I  could  have  attended  the  convention  in  Boston,  and 
had  been  allowed  to  speak — and  I  am  sure  the  distin 
guished  Chairwoman  would  have  given  me  a  chance — it 
would  have  been  the  best  way,  no  doubt,  to  set  our  case 
before  the  world. 

I  must  first  tell  you  how  it  was  that  we  succeeded  in 
forcing  the  men  to  accept  our  claims,  so  much  in  advance 
of  other  States.  We  were  indebted  for  it  chiefly  to  the 
skill  and  adroitness  of  Selina  Whiston.  The  matter  had 
been  agitated,  it  is  true,  for  some  years  before,  and  as 
early  as  1856,  a  bill,  drawn  up  by  Mrs.  Whiston  herself, 
had  been  introduced  into  the  Legislature,  where  it  re 
ceived  three  votes.  Moreover,  we  had  held  meetings 
in  almost  every  election  precinct  in  the  State,  and  our  An 
nual  Fair  (to  raise  funds)  at  Gaston,  while  the  Legislature 
was  in  session,  was  always  very  brilliant  and  successful. 
So  the  people  were  not  entirely  unprepared. 

Although  our  State  had  gone  for  Fremont  in  1856,  by 
a  small  majority,  the  Democrats  afterwards  elected  their 


310  TALES    OF    HOME. 

Governor  ;  and  both  parties,  therefore,  had  hopes  of  suc 
cess  in  1860.  The  canvass  began  early,  and  was  very 
animated.  Mrs.  Whiston  had  already  inaugurated  the 
custom  of  attending  political  meetings,  and  occasionally 
putting  a  question  to  the  stump  orator — no  matter  of  which 
party ;  of  sometimes,  indeed,  taking  the  stump  herself, 
after  the  others  had  exhausted  their  wind.  She  was  very 
witty,  as  you  know,  and  her  stories  were  so  good  and  so 
capitally  told,  that  neither  Democrat  nor  Republican 
thought  of  leaving  the  ground  while  she  was  upon  the  stand. 

Now,  it  happened  that  our  Congressional  District  was 
one  of  the  closest.  It  happened,  also,  that  our  candidate 
(I  am  a  Republican,  and  so  is  Mr.  Strongitharm)  was 
rather  favorably  inclined  to  the  woman's  cause.  It  hap 
pened,  thirdly — and  this  is  the  seemingly  insignificant 
pivot  upon  which  we  whirled  into  triumph — that  he,  Mr. 
Wrangle,  and  the  opposing  candidate,  Mr.  Tumbrill,  had 
arranged  to  hold  a  joint  meeting  at  Burroak.  This  meet 
ing  took  place  on  a  magnificent  day,  just  after  the  oats- 
harvest;  and  everybody,  for  twenty  miles  around,  was 
there.  Mrs.  Whiston,  together  with  Sarah  Pincher, 
Olympia  Knapp,  and  several  other  prominent  advocates 
of  our  cause,  met  at  my  house  in  the  morning ;  and  we 
all  agreed  that  it  was  time  to  strike  a  blow.  The  rest  of 
us  magnanimously  decided  to  take  no  part  in  the  concert 
ed  plan,  though  very  eager  to  do  so.  Selina  Whiston  de 
clared  that  she  must  have  the  field  to  herself;  and  when 
she  said  that,  we  knew  she  meant  it. 

It  was  generally  known  that  she  was  on  the  ground. 


MRS.   STRONGITHARM'S  REPORT.         311 

In  fact,  she  spent  most  of  the  time  while  Messrs.  Wrangle 
and  Tumbrill  were  speaking,  in  walking  about  through 
the  crowds — so  after  an  hour  apiece  for  the  gentlemen, 
and  then  fifteen  minutes  apiece  for  a  rejoinder,  and  the 
Star  Spangled  Banner  from  the  band,  for  both  sides,  we 
were  not  a  bit  surprised  to  hear  a  few  cries  of  "  Whiston !  " 
from  the  audience.  Immediately  we  saw  the  compact 
gray  bonnet  and  brown  serge  dress  (she  knew  what  would 
go  through  a  crowd  without  tearing !)  splitting  the  wedge 
of  people  on  the  steps  leading  to  the  platform.  I  noticed 
that  the  two  Congressional  candidates  looked  at  each 
other  and  smiled,  in  spite  of  the  venomous  charges  they 
had  just  been  making. 

Well — I  won't  attempt  to  report  her  speech,  though  it 
was  her  most  splendid  effort  (as  people  will  say,  when  it 
was  no  effort  to  her  at  all).  But  the  substance  of  it  was 
this :  after  setting  forth  woman's  wrongs  and  man's  tyranny, 
and  taxation  without  representation,  and  an  equal  chance, 
and  fair-play,  and  a  struggle  for  life  (which  you  know  all 
about  from  the  other  conventions),  she  turned  squarely 
around  to  the  two  candidates  and  said  : 

"  Now  to  the  practical  application.  You,  Mr.  Wran 
gle,  and  you,  Mr.  Tumbrill,  want  to  be  elected  to  Congress. 
The  district  is  a  close  one :  you  have  both  counted  the 
votes  in  advance  (oh,  I  know  your  secrets  !)  and  there 
isn't  a  difference  of  a  hundred  in  your  estimates.  A  very 
little  will  turn  the  scale  either  way.  Perhaps  a  woman's 
influence — perhaps  my  voice — might  do  it.  But  I  will 
give  you  an  equal  chance.  So  much  power  is  left  to 


312  TALES    OF    HOME. 

woman,  despite  what  you  withhold,  that  we,  the  women 
of  Putnam,  Shinnebaug,  and  Rancocus  counties,  are  able 
to  decide  which  of  you  shall  be  elected.  Either  of  you 
would  give  a  great  deal  to  have  a  majority  of  the  intelli 
gent  women  of  the  District  on  your  side  :  it  would  already 
be  equivalent  to  success.  Now,  to  show  that  we  under 
stand  the  political  business  from  which  you  have  exclu 
ded  us — to  prove  that  we  are  capable  of  imitating  the 
noble  example  of  men — we  offer  to  sell  our  influence,  as 
they  their  votes,  to  the  highest  bidder !  " 

There  was  great  shouting  and  cheering  among  the 
people  at  this,  but  the  two  candidates,  somehow  or  other, 
didn't  seem  much  amused. 

"  I  stand  here,"  she  continued,  "  in  the  interest  of  my 
struggling  sisters,  and  with  authority  to  act  for  them. 
Which  of  you  will  bid  the  most — not  in  offices  or  material 
advantages,  as  is  the  way  of  your  parties,  but  in  the  way 
of  help  to  the  Woman's  Cause?  Which  of  you  will  here 
publicly  pledge  himself  to  say  a  word  for  us,  from  now 
until  election-day,  whenever  he  appears  upon  the  stump  ? '» 

There  was  repeated  cheering,  and  cries  of  "  Got  'em 
there  !  "  (Men  are  so  vulgar). 

I  pause  for  a  reply.     Shall  they  not  answer  me  ? "  she 
continued,  turning  to  the  audience. 

"  Then  there  were  tremendous  cries  of  "  Yes  !  yes  ! 
Wrangle  !  Tumbrill !  " 

Mr.  Wrangle  looked  at  Mr.  Tumbrill,  and  made  a 
motion  with  his  head,  signifying  that  he  should  speak. 
Then  Mr.  Tumbrill  looked  at  Mr.  Wrangle,  and  made  a 


MRS.  STRONGITHARM'S  REPORT.         313 

motion  that  he  should  speak.     The  people  saw  all  this, 
and  laughed  and  shouted  as  if  they  would  never  finish. 

Mr.  Wrangle,  on  second  thoughts  (this  is  my  private 
surmise),  saw  that  boldness  would  just  then  be  popular; 
so  he  stepped  forward.  '•,  ' 

"Do  I  understand,"  he  said,  "that  my  fair  and  elo 
quent  friend  demands  perfect  political  and  civil  equality 
for  her  sex  ? " 

"I  do ! "  exclaimed  Selina  Whiston,  in  her  firmest 
manner. 

"  Let  me  be  more  explicit,"  he  continued.  "  You 
mean  precisely  the  same  rights,  the  same  duties,  the 
same  obligations,  the  same  responsibilities  ? " 

She  repeated  the  phrases  over  after  him,  affirmatively, 
with  an  emphasis  which  I  never  heard  surpassed. 

"  Pardon  me  once  more,"  said  Mr.  Wrangle  ;  "  the 
right  to  vote,  to  hold  office,  to  practise  law,  theology* 
medicine,  to  take  part  in  all  municipal  affairs,  to  sit  on 
juries,  to  be  called  upon  to  aid  in  the  execution  of  the 
law,  to  aid  in  suppressing  disturbances,  enforcing  public 
order,  and  performing  military  duty  ?  " 

Here  there  were  loud  cheers  from  the  audience  ;  and 
a  good  many  voices  cried  out :  "  Got  her  there  ! "  (Men 
are  so  very  vulgar.) 

Mrs.  Whiston  looked  troubled  for  a  moment,  but  she 
saw  that  a  moment's  hesitation  would  be  fatal  to  our 
scheme,  so  she  brought  out  her  words  as  if  each  one 
were  a  maul-blow  on  the  butt-end  of  a  wedge : 

"  All— that— we— demand  !  " 
'4 


314  TALES    OF    HOME. 

"  Then,"  said  Mr.  Wrangle,  "  I  bid  my  support  in 
exchange  for  the  women's  !  Just  what  the  speaker  de 
mands,  without  exception  or  modification — equal  privi 
leges,  rights,  duties  and  obligations,  without  regard  to 
the  question  of  sex  !  Is  that  broad  enough  ? " 

I  was  all  in  a  tremble  when  it  came  to  that.  Some 
how  Mr.  Wrangle's  acceptance  of  the  bid  did  not  in 
spire  me,  although  it  promised  so  much.  I  had  antici 
pated  opposition,  dissatisfaction,  tumult.  So  had  Mrs. 
Whiston,  and  I  could  see,  and  the  crowd  could  see,  that 
she  was  not  greatly  elated. 

Mr.  Wrangle  made  a  very  significant  bow  to  Mr. 
Tumbrill,  and  then  sat  down.  There  were  cries  of 
"  Tumbrill !  "  and  that  gentleman — none  of  us,  of  course, 
believing  him  sincere,  for  we  knew  his  private  views — 
came  forward  and  made  exactly  the  same  pledge.  I  will 
do  both  parties  the  justice  to  say  that  they  faithfully  kept 
their  word  ;  nay,  it  was  generally  thought  the  repetition 
of  their  brief  pleas  for  woman,  at  some  fifty  meetings 
before  election  came,  had  gradually  conducted  them  to 
the  belief  that  they  were  expressing  their  own  personal 
sentiments.  The  mechanical  echo  in  public  thus  de 
veloped  into  an  opinion  in  private.  My  own  political 
experience  has  since  demonstrated  to  me  that  this  is  a 
phenomenon  very  common  among  men. 

The  impulse  generated  at  that  meeting  gradually 
spread  all  over  the  State.  We — the  leaders  of  the 
Women's  Movement — did  not  rest  until  we  had  exacted 
the  same  pledge  from  all  the  candidates  of  both  parties  ; 


MRS.    STRONGITHARM  S    REPORT.  315 

and  the  nearer  it  drew  towards  election-day,  the  more 
prominence  was  given,  in  the  public  meetings,  to  the 
illustration  and  discussion  of  the  subject.  Our  State 
went  for  Lincoln  by  a  majority  of  2763  (as  you  will  find 
by  consulting  the  "Tribune  Almanac"),  and  Mr.  Wrangle 
was  elected  to  Congress,  having  received  a  hundred  and 
fcrty-two  more  votes  than  his  opponent.  Mr.  Tumbrill 
has  always  attributed  his  defeat  to  his  want  of  courage 
in  not  taking  up  at  once  the  glove  which  Selina  Whiston 
threw  down. 

I  think  I  have  said  enough  to  make  it  clear  how  the 
State  of  Atlantic  came  to  be  the  first  to  grant  equal  civil 
and  political  rights  to  women.  When  the  Legislature  of 
i86o-'6i  met  at  Gaston,  we  estimated  that  we  might 
count  upon  fifty-three  out  of  the  seventy-one  Republican 
Senators  and  Assemblymen,  and  on  thirty-four  out  of  the 
sixty-five  Democrats.  This  would  give  a  majority  of 
twenty-eight  in  the  House,  and  ten  in  the  Senate.  Should 
the  bill  pass,  there  was  still  a  possibility  that  it  might  be 
vetoed  by  the  Governor,  of  whom  we  did  not  feel  sure. 
We  therefore  arranged  that  our  Annual  Fair  should  be 
held  a  fortnight  later  than  usual,  and  that  the  proceeds 
(a  circumstance  known  only  to  the  managers)  should  be 
devoted  to  a  series  of  choice  suppers,  at  which  we  enter 
tained,  not  only  the  Governor  and  our  friends  in  both 
Houses,  but  also,  like  true  Christians,  our  legislatorial 
enemies.  Olympia  Knapp,  who,  you  know,  is  so  very 
beautiful,  presided  at  these  entertainments.  She  put 
forth  all  her  splendid  powers,  and  with  more  effect  than 


316  TALES    OF    HOME. 

any  of  us  suspected.  On  the  day  before  the  bill  reached 
its  third  reading,  the  Governor  made  her  an  offer  of 
marriage.  She  came  to  the  managers  in  great  agitation, 
and  laid  the  matter  before  them,  stating  that  she  was 
overwhelmed  with  surprise  (though  Sarah  Pincher  always 
maintained  that  she  wasn't  in  the  least),  and  asking  their 
advice.  We  discussed  the  question  for  four  hours,  and 
finally  decided  that  the  interests  of  the  cause  would 
oblige  her  to  accept  the  Governor's  hand.  "  Oh,  I  am  so 
glad  !"  cried  Olympia,  "for  I  accepted  him  at  once."  It 
was  a  brave,  a  noble  deed ! 

Now,  I  would  ask  those  who  assert  that  women  are 
incapable  of  conducting  the  business  of  politics,  to  say 
whether  any  set  of  men,  of  either  party,  could  have 
played  their  cards  more  skilfully  ?  Even  after  the 
campaign  was  over  we  might  have  failed,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  suppers.  We  owed  this  idea,  like  the  first,  to  the 
immortal  Selina  Whiston.  A  lucky  accident — as  mo 
mentous  in  its  way  as  the  fall  of  an  apple  to  Newton,  or 
the  flying  of  a  kite  to  Dr.  Franklin — gave  her  the  secret 
principle  by  which  the  politics  of  men  are  directed.  Her 
house  in  Whittletown  was  the  half  of  a  double  frame 
building,  and  the  rear-end  of  the  other  part  was  the 
private  office  of — but  no,  I  will  not  mention  the  name — 
a  lawyer  and  a  politician.  He  was  known  as  a  "  wire 
puller,"  and  the  other  wire-pullers  of  his  party  used  to 
meet  in  his  office  and  discuss  matters.  Mrs.  Whiston 
always  asserted  that  there  was  a  mouse-hole  through  the 
partition ;  but  she  had  energy  enough  to  have  made  a 
hole  herself,  for  the  sake  of  the  cause. 


MRS.    STRONGITHARM  S    REPORT.  317 

She  never  would  tell  us  all  she  overheard.  "  It  is 
enough,"  she  would  say,  "  that  I  know  how  the  thing  is 
done." 

1  remember  that  we  were  all  considerably  startled  when 
she  first  gave  us  an  outline  of  her  plan.  On  my  saying 
that  I  trusted  the  dissemination  of  our  principles  would 
soon  bring  us  a  great  adhesion,  she  burst  out  with  : 

"  Principles  !  Why  if  we  trust  to  principles,  we  shall 
never  succeed  !  We  must  rely  upon  influences,  as  the 
men  do  ;  we  must  fight  them  with  their  own  weapons, 
and  even  then  we  are  at  a  disadvantage,  because  we  can 
not  very  well  make  use  of  whiskey  and  cigars." 

We  yielded,  because  we  had  grown  accustomed  to  be 
guided  by  her  ;  and,  moreover,  we  had  seen,  time  and 
again,  how  she  could  succeed — as,  for  instance,  in  the 
Nelson  divorce  case  (but  I  don't  suppose  you  ever  heard 
of  that),  when  the  matter  seemed  nigh  hopeless  to  all  of 
us.  The  history  of  1860  and  the  following  winter  proves 
that  in  her  the  world  has  lost  a  stateswoman.  Mr. 
Wrangle  and  Governor  Battle  have  both  said  to  me 
that  they  never  knew  a  measure  to  be  so  splendidly  en 
gineered  both  before  the  public  and  in  the  State  Legis 
lature. 

After  the  bill  had  been  passed,  and  signed  by  the 
Governor,  and  so  had  become  a  law,  and  the  grand 
Women's  Jubilee  had  been  held  at  Gaston,  the  excite 
ment  subsided.  It  would  be  nearly  a  year  to  the  next 
State  election,  and  none  of  the  women  seemed  to  care 
for  the  local  and  municipal  elections  in  the  spring.  Be- 


318  TALES    OF    HOME. 

sides,  there  was  a  good  deal  of  anxiety  among  them  in 
regard  to  the  bill,  which  was  drawn  up  in  almost 
the  exact  terms  used  by  Mr.  Wrangle  at  the  political 
meeting.  In  fact,  we  always  have  suspected  that  he 
wrote  it.  The  word  "  male"  was  simply  omitted  from 
all  laws.  "Nothing  is  changed,"  said  Mrs.  Whiston, 
quoting  Charles  X.,  "there  are  only  201,758  more  citi 
zens  in  Atlantic  !  " 

This  was  in  January,  1861,  you  must  remember; 
and  the  shadow  of  the  coming  war  began  to  fall  over 
us.  Had  the  passage  of  our  bill  been  postponed  a 
fortnight  it  would  have  been  postponed  indefinitely,  for 
other  and  (for  the  men)  more  powerful  excitements  fol 
lowed  one  upon  the  other.  Even  our  jubilee  was  thinly 
attended,  and  all  but  two  of  the  members  on  whom 
we  relied  for  speeches  failed  us.  Governor  Battle,  who 
was  to  have  presided,  was  at  Washington,  and  Olympia, 
already  his  wife,  accompanied  him.  (I  may  add  that  she 
has  never  since  taken  any  active  part  with  us.  They 
have  been  in  Europe  for  the  last  three  years.) 

Most  of  the  women — here  in  Burroak,  at  least — ex 
pressed  a  feeling  of  disappointment  that  there  was  no 
palpable  change  in-their  lot,  no  sense  of  extended  liberty, 
such  as  they  imagined  would  come  to  transform  them 
into  brighter  and  better  creatures.  They  supposed  that 
they  would  at  once  gain  in  importance  in  the  eyes  of  ihf 
men  ;  but  the  men  were  now  so  preoccupied  by  the 
events  at  the  South  that  they  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
our  political  value.  Speaking  for  myself,  as  a  good 


MRS.  STRONGITHARM'S  REPORT.         319 

Union  woman,  I  felt  that  I  must  lay  aside,  for  a  time,  the 
interests  of  my  sex.  Once,  it  is  true,  I  proposed  to 
accompany  Mr.  Strongitharm  to  a  party  caucus  at  the 
Wrangle  House ;  but  he  so  suddenly  discovered  that  he 
had  business  in  another  part  of  the  town,  that  I  withdrew 
my  proposition. 

As  the  summer  passed  over,  and  the  first  and  second 
call  for  volunteers  had  been  met,  and  more  than  met,  by 
the  patriotic  men  of  the  State  (how  we  blessed  them  !) 
we  began  to  take  courage,  and  to  feel,  that  if  our  new 
civil  position  brought  us  no  very  tangible  enjoyment, 
at  least  it  imposed  upon  us  no  very  irksome  duties. 

The  first  practical  effect  of  the  new  law  came  to  light 
at  the  August  term  of  our  County  Court.  The  names  of 
seven  women  appeared  on  the  list  of  jurors,  but  only 
three  of  them  answered  to  their  names.  One,  the  wife  of 
a  poor  farmer,  was  excused  by  the  Judge,  as  there  was  no 
one  to  look  after  six  small  children  in  her  absence  ; 
another  was  a  tailoress,  with  a  quantity  of  work  on  hand, 
some  of  which  she  proposed  bringing  with  her  into  Court, 
in  order  to  save  time  ;  but  as  this  could  not  be  allowed, 
she  made  so  much  trouble  that  she  was  also  finally  let 
off.  Only  one,  therefore,  remained  to  serve ;  fortunately 
for  the  credit  of  our  sex,  she  was  both  able  and  willing 
to  do  so  ;  and  we  afterward  made  a  subscription,  and 
presented  her  with  a  silver  fish-knife,  on  account  of  her 
having  tired  out  eleven  jurymen,  and  brought  in  a  verdict 
of  $5,000  damages  against  a  young  man  whom  she  con 
victed  of  seduction.  She  told  me  that  no  one  would  ever 


320  TALES    OF    HOME. 

know  what  she  endured  during  those  three  days  j  but  the 
morals  of  our  county  have  been  better  ever  since. 

Mr.  Spelter  told  me  that  his  State  exchanges  showed 
that  there  had  been  difficulties  of  the  same  kind  in  all  the 
other  counties.  In  Mendip  (the  county-town  of  which  is 
Whittletown,  Mrs.  Whiston's  home)  the  immediate  result 
had  been  the  decision,  on  the  part  of  the  Commissioners, 
to  build  an  addition  at  the  rear  of  the  Court-House,  with 
large,  commodious  and  well-furnished  jury-rooms,  so 
arranged  that  a  comfortable  privacy  was  secured  to  the 
jury-women.  I  did  my  best  to  have  the  same  improve 
ment  adopted  here,  but,  alas  !  I  have  not  the  ability  of 
Selina  Whiston  in  such  matters,  and  there  is  nothing  to 
this  day  but  the  one  vile,  miserable  room,  properly  fur 
nished  ia  no  particular  except  spittoons. 

The  nominating  Conventions  were  held  in  August, 
also,  and  we  were  therefore  called  upon  to  move  at  once, 
in  order  to  secure  our  fair  share.  Much  valuable  time 
had  been  lost  in  discussing  a  question  of  policy,  namely, 
whether  we  should  attagh  ourselves  to  the  two  parties 
already  in  existence,  according  to  our  individual  inclina 
tions,  or  whether  we  should  form  a  third  party  for  our 
selves.  We  finally  accepted  the  former  proposition,  and 
I  think  wisely ;  for  the  most  of  us  were  so  ignorant  of 
political  tricks  and  devices,  that  we  still  needed  to  learn 
from  the  men,  and  we  could  not  afford  to  draw  upon  us 
the  hostility  of  both  parties,  in  the  very  infancy  of  our 
movement. 

Never  in  my  life  did  I  have  such  a  task,  as  in  drum- 


MRS.    STRONGITHARM  S    REPORT.  321 

ming  up  a  few  women  to  attend  the  primary  township  meet 
ing  for  the  election  of  delegates.  It  was  impossible  to  make 
them  comprehend  its  importance.  Even  after  I  had  done 
my  best  to  explain  the  technicalities  of  male  politics,  and 
fancied  that  I  had  made  some  impression,  the  answer 
would  be  :  "  Well,  I'd  go,  I'm  sure,  just  to  oblige  you, 
but  then  there's  the  tomatoes  to  be  canned  " — or,  "  I'm  so 
behindhand  with  my  darning  and  patching" — or,  "John '11 
be  sure  to  go,  and  there's  no  need  of  two  from  the  same 
house" — and  so  on,  until  I  was  mightily  discouraged. 
There  were  just  nine  of  us,  all  told,  to  about  a  hundred 
men.  I  won't  deny  that  our  situation  that  night,  at  the 
Wrangle  House,  was  awkward  and  not  entirely  agreeable. 
To  be  sure  the  landlord  gave  us  the  parlor,  and  most  of 
the  men  came  in,  now  and  then,  to  speak  to  us ;  but 
they  managed  the  principal  matters  all  by  themselves,  in 
the  bar-room,  which  was  such  a  mess  of  smoke  and  stale 
liquor  smells,  that  it  turned  my  stomach  when  I  ventured 
in  for  two  minutes. 

I  don't  think  we  should  have  accomplished  much,  but 
for  a  'cute  idea  of  Mrs.  Wilbur,  the  tinman's  wife.  She 
went  to  the  leaders,  and  threatened  them  that  the  women's 
vote  should  be  cast  in  a  body  for  the  Democratic  candi 
dates,  unless  we  were  considered  in  making  up  the  ticket 
That  helped  :  the  delegates  were  properly  instructed,  and 
the  County  Convention  afterward  nominated  two  men  and 
one  woman  as  candidates  for  the  Assembly.  That  woman 
was — as  I  need  hardly  say,  for  the  world  knows  it — my 
self.  I  had  not  solicited  the  honor,  and  therefore  could 


322  TALES    OF    HOME. 

not  refuse,  especially  as  my  daughter  Melissa  was  then 
old  enough  to  keep  house  in  my  absence.  No  woman 
had  applied  for  the  nomination  for  Sheriff,  but  there  were 
seventeen  schoolmistresses  anxious  for  the  office  of 
County  Treasurer.  The  only  other  nomination  given  to 
the  women,  however,  was  that  of  Director  (or  rather,  Di 
rectress)  of  the  Poor,  which  was  conferred  on  Mrs.  Bas 
se  tt,  wife  of  a  clergyman. 

Mr.  Strongitharm  insisted  that  I  should,  in  some  wise, 
prepare  myself  for  my  new  duties,  by  reading  various  po 
litical  works,  and  I  conscientiously  tried  to  do  so — but, 
dear  me  !  it  was  much  more  of  a  task  than  I  supposed. 
We  had  all  read  the  debate  on  our  bill,  of  course ;  but  I 
always  skipped  the  dry,  stupid  stuff  about  the  tariff,  and 
finance,  and  stay  laws  and  exemption  laws,  and  railroad 
company  squabbles  ;  and  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't  see,  to 
this  day,  what  connection  there  is  between  these  things 
and  Women's  Rights.  But,  as  I  said,  I  did  my  best, 
with  the  help  of  Webster's  Dictionary ;  although  the  fur 
ther  I  went  the  less  I  liked  it. 

As  election-day  drew  nearer,  our  prospects  looked 
brighter.  The  Republican  ticket,  under  the  editorial 
head  of  the  "  Burroak  Banner,"  with  my  name  and  Mrs. 
Bassett's  among  the  men's,  was  such  an  evidence,  that 
many  women,  notably  opposed  to  the  cause,  said  :  "  We 
didn't  want  the  right,  but  since  we  have  it,  we  shall  make 
use  of  it."  This  was  exactly  what  Mrs.  Whiston  had  fore 
told.  We  estimated  that — taking  the  County  tickets  all 
over  the  State — we  had  about  one-twentieth  'of  the  Re- 


MRS.  STRONGITHARM'S  REPORT.         323 

publican,  and  one-fiftieth  of  the  Democratic,  nominations. 
This  was  far  from  being  our  due,  but  still  it  was  a  good 
beginning. 

My  husband  insisted  that  I  should  go  very  early  to 
the  polls.  I  could  scarcely  restrain  a  tear  of  emotion  as 
I  gave  my  first  ballot  into  the  hands  of  the  judges.  There 
were  not  a  dozen  persons  present,  and  the  act  did  not 
produce  the  sensation  which  I  expected.  One  man  cried 
out :  "  Three  cheers  for  our  Assemblywoman  !  "  and  they 
gave  them  ;  and  I  thereupon  returned  home  in  the  best 
spirits.  I  devoted  the  rest  of  the  day  to  relieving  poorer 
women,  who  could  not  have  spared  the  time  to  vote,  if  I 
had  not,  meanwhile,  looked  after  their  children.  The  last 
was  Nancy  Black,  the  shoemaker's  wife  in  our  street,  who 
kept  me  waiting  upon  her  till  it  was  quite  dark.  When 
she  finally  came,  the  skirt  of  her  dress  was  ripped  nearly 
off,  her  hair  was  down  and  her  comb  broken ;  but 
she  was  triumphant,  for  Sam  Black  was  with  her,  and 
sober.  "  The  first  time  since  we  were  married,  Mrs, 
Strongitharm  ! "  she  cried.  Then  she  whispered  to  me,, 
as  I  was  leaving  :  "  And  I've  killed  his  vote,  anyhow  ! " 

When  the  count  was  made,  our  party  was  far  ahead. 
Up  to  this  time,  I  think,  the  men  of  both  parties  had  be 
lieved  that  only  a  few  women,  here  and  there,  would 
avail  themselves  of  their  new  right — but  they  were 
roundly  mistaken.  Although  only  ten  per  cent,  of  the 
female  voters  went  to  the  polls,  yet  three-fourths  of  them 
voted  the  Republican  ticket,  which  increased  the  majority 
of  that  party,  in  the  State,  about  eleven  thousand. 


324  TALES    OF    HOME. 

It  was  amazing  what  an  effect  followed  this  result. 
The  whole  country  would  have  rung  with  it,  had  we  not 
been  in  the  midst  of  war.  Mr.  Wrangle  declared  that  he 
had  always  been  an  earnest  advocate  of  the  women's 
cause.  Governor  Battle,  in  his  next  message,  congratu 
lated  the  State  on  the  signal  success  of  the  experiment, 
and  the  Democratic  masses,  smarting  under  their  defeat, 
cursed  their  leaders  for  not  having  been  sharp  enough 
to  conciliate  the  new  element.  The  leaders  themselves 
said  nothing,  and  in  a  few  weeks  the  rank  and  file  recov 
ered  their  cheerfulness.  Even  Mrs.  Whiston,  with  all  her 
experience,  was  a  little  puzzled  by  this  change  of  mood. 
Alas !  she  was  far  from  guessing  the  correct  explanation. 

It  was  a  great  comfort  to  me  that  Mrs.  Whiston  was 
also  elected  to  the  Legislature.  My  husband  had  just 
then  established  his  manufactory  of  patent  self-scouring 
knife-blades  (now  so  celebrated),  and  could  not  leave ; 
so  I  was  obliged  to  go  up  to  Gaston-all  alone,  when  the 
session  commenced.  There  were  but  four  of  us  Assem 
blywomen,  and  although  the  men  treated  us  with  great 
courtesy,  I  was  that  nervous  that  I  seemed  to  detect 
either  commiseration  or  satire  everywhere.  Before  I  had 
even  taken  my  seat,  I  was  addressed  by  fifteen  or  twenty 
different  gentlemen,  either  great  capitalists,  or  great  en 
gineers,  or  distinguished  lawyers,  all  interested  in  various 
schemes  for  developing  the  resources  of  our  State  by  new 
railroads,  canals  or  ferries.  I  then  began  to  comprehend 
the  grandeur  of  the  Legislator's  office.  My  voice  could 
assist  in  making  possible  these  magnificent  improvements, 


MRS.  STRONGITHARM'S  REPORT.         325 

and  I  promised  it  to  all.  Mr.  Filch,  President  of  the 
Shinnebaug  and  Great  Western  Consolidated  Line,  was 
so  delighted  with  my  appreciation  of  his  plan  for  reduc 
ing  the  freight  on  grain  from  Nebraska,  that  he  must  have 
written  extravagant  accounts  of  me  to  his  wife ;  for  she 
sent  me,  at  Christmas,  one  of  the  loveliest  shawls  I  ever 
beheld. 

I  had  frequently  made  short  addresses  at  our  public 
meetings,  and  was  considered  to  have  my  share  of  self- 
possession  ;  but  I  never  could  accustom  myself  to  the 
keen,  disturbing,  irritating  atmosphere  of  the  Legislature. 
Everybody  seemed  wide-awake  and  aggressive,  instead 
of  pleasantly  receptive ;  there  were  so  many  "  points  of 
order,"  and  what  not ;  such  complete  disregard,  among 
the  members,  of  each  other's  feelings ;  and,  finally — a 
thing  I  could  never  understand,  indeed — such  inconsis 
tency  and  lack  of  principle  in  the  intercourse  of  the  two 
parties.  How  could  I  feel  assured  of  their  sincerity,  when 
I  saw  the  very  men  chatting  and  laughing  together,  in 
the  lobbies,  ten  minutes  after  they  had  been  facing  each 
other  like  angry  lions  in  the  debate  ? 

Mrs.  Whiston,  also,  had  her  trials  of  the  same  char 
acter.  Nothing  ever  annoyed  her  so  much  as  a  little 
blunder  she  made,  the  week  after  the  opening  of  the  ses 
sion.  I  have  not  yet  mentioned  that  there  was  already  a 
universal  dissatisfaction  among  the  women,  on  account 
of  their  being  liable  to  military  service.  The  war  seemed 
to  have  hardly  begun,  as  yet,  and  conscription  was  already 
talked  about ;  the  women,  therefore,  clamored  for  an  ex- 


325  TALES    OF    HOME. 

emption  on  account  of  sex.  Although  we  all  felt  that  this 
was  a  retrograde  movement,  the  pressure  was  so  great  that 
we  yielded.  Mrs.  Whiston,  reluctant  at  first,  no  sooner 
made  up  her  mind  that  the  thing  must  be  done,  than  she 
furthered  it  with  all  her  might.  After  several  attempts  to 
introduce  a  bill,  which  were  always  cut  off  by  some  "  point 
of  order,"  she  unhappily  lost  her  usual  patience. 

I  don't  know  that  I  can  exactly  explain  how  it  hap 
pened,  for  what  the  men  call  "  parliamentary  tactics  "  al 
ways  made  me  fidgetty.  But  the  "previous  question" 
turned  up  (as  it  always  seemed  to  me  to  do,  at  the  wrong 
time),  and  cut  her  off  before  she  had  spoken  ten  words. 

"  Mr.  Speaker  !  "  she  protested  ;  "  there  is  no  ques 
tion,  previous  to  this,  which  needs  the  consideration  of 
the  house  !  This  is  first  in  importance,  and  demands 
your  immediate — " 

"  Order  !  order  !  "  came  from  all  parts  of  the  house. 

"  I  am  in  order — the  right  is  always  in  order  !  "  she  ex 
claimed,  getting  more  and  more  excited.  "  We  women 
are  not  going  to  be  contented  with  the  mere  show  of  our 
rights  on  this  floor ;  we  demand  the  substance — " 

And  so  she  was  going  on,  when  there  arose  the  most 
fearful  tumult.  The  upshot  of  it  was,  that  the  speaker 
ordered  the  sergeant-at-arms  to  remove  Mrs.  Whiston  ; 
one  of  the  members,  more  considerate,  walked  across  the 
floor  to  her,  and  tried  to  explain  in  what  manner  she  was 
violating  the  rules  ;  and  in  another  minute  she  sat  down, 
so  white,  rigid  and  silent  that  it  made  me  shake  in  my 
shoes  to  look  at  her. 


MRS.    STRONGITHARM  S    REPORT.  327 

"  I  have  made  a  great  blunder,"  she  said  to  me,  that 
evening  ;  "  and  it  may  set  us  back  a  little  ;  but  I  shall  re 
cover  my  ground."  Which  she  did,  I  assure  you.  She 
cultivated  the  acquaintance  of  the  leaders  of  both  parties, 
studied  their  tactics,  and  quietly  waited  for  a  good  oppor 
tunity  to  bring  in  her  bill.  At  first,  we  thought  it  would 
pass ;  but  one  of  the  male  members  presently  came  out 
with  a  speech,  which  dashed  our  hopes  to  nothing.  He 
simply  took  the  ground  that  there  must  be  absolute  equal 
ity  in  citizenship  ;  that  every  privilege  was  balanced  by  a 
duty,  every  trust  accompanied  with  its  responsibility.  He 
had  no  objection  to  women  possessing  equal  rights  with 
men — but  to  give  them  all  civil  rights  and  exempt  them 
from  the  most  important  obligation  of  service,  would  be, 
he  said,  to  create  a  privileged  class — a  female  aristocracy. 
It  was  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  our  institutions.  The 
women  had  complained  of  taxation  without  representa 
tion  ;  did  they  now  claim  the  latter  without  the  former  ? 

The  people  never  look  more  than  half-way  into  a  sub 
ject,  and  so  this  speech  was  immensely  popular.  I  will 
not  give  Mrs.  Whiston's  admirable  reply ;  for  Mr.  Spelter 
informs  me  that  you  will  not  accept  an  article,  if  it  should 
make  more  than  seventy  or  eighty  printed -pages.  It  is 
enough  that  our  bill  was  "  killed,"  as  the  men  say  (a  bru 
tal  word) ;  and  the  women  of  the  State  laid  the  blame  of 
the  failure  upon  us.  You  may  imagine  that  we  suffered 
under  this  injustice  ;  but  worse  was  to  come, 

As  I  said  before,  a  great  many  things  came  up  in  the 
Legislature  which  I  did  not  understand — and,  to  be  can- 


328  TALES    OF    HOME. 

did,  did  not  care  to  understand.  But  I  was  obliged  to 
vote,  nevertheless,  and  in  this  extremity  I  depended 
pretty  much  on  Mrs.  Whiston's  counsel.  We  could  not 
well  go  to  the  private  nightly  confabs  of  the  members — 
indeed,  they  did  not  invite  us ;  and  when  it  came  to  the 
issue  of  State  bonds,  bank  charters,  and  such  like,  I  felt 
as  if  I  were  blundering  along  in  the  dark. 

One  day,  I  received,  to  my  immense  astonishment,  a 
hundred  and  more  letters,  all  from  the  northern  part  of 
our  county.  I  opened  them,  one  after  the  other,  and — 
well,  it  is  beyond  my  power  to  tell  you  what  varieties  of 
indignation  and  abuse  fell  upon  me.  It  seems  that  I  had 
voted  against  the  bill  to  charter  the  Mendip  Extension 
Railroad  Co.  I  had  been  obliged  to  vote  for  or  against 
so  many  things,  that  it  was  impossible  to  recollect  them 
all.  However,  I  procured  the  printed  journal,  and,  sure 
enough  !  there,  among  the  nays,  was  "  Strongitharm."  It 
was  not  a  week  after  that — and  I  was  still  suffering  in 
mind  and  body — when  the  newspapers  in  the  interest  of 
the  Rancocus  and  Great  Western  Consolidated  accused 
me  (not  by  name,  but  the  same  thing — you  know  how 
they  do  it)  of  being  guilty  of  taking  bribes.  Mr.  Filch, 
of  the  Shinnebaug  Consolidated  had  explained  to  me  so 
beautifully  the  superior  advantages  of  his  line,  that  the 
Directors  of  the  other  company  took  their  revenge  in  this 
vile,  abominable  way. 

That  was  only  the  beginning  of  my  trouble.  What 
with  these  slanders  and  longing  for  the  quiet  of  our  dear 
old  home  at  Burroak,  I  was  almost  sick  ;  yet  the  Legisla- 


MRS.    STRONGITHARM  S    REPORT.  329 

ture  sat  on,  and  sat  on,  until  I  was  nearly  desperate. 
Then  one  morning  came  a  despatch  from  my  husband  : 
"  Melissa  is  drafted — come  home  !  "  How  I  made  the 
journey  I  can't  tell ;  I  was  in  an  agony  of  apprehension, 
and  when  Mr.  Strongitharm  and  Melissa  both  met  me  at 
the  Burroak  Station,  well  and  smiling,  I  fell  into  a  hyster 
ical  fit  of  laughing  and  crying,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life. 

Billy  Brandon,  who  was  engaged  to  Melissa,  came  for 
ward  and  took  her  place  like  a  man  ;  he  fought  none  the 
worse,  let  me  tell  you,  because  he  represented  a  woman, 
and  (I  may  as  well  say  it  now)  he  came  home  a  Captain, 
without  a  left  arm — but  Melissa  seems  to  have  three  arms 
for  his  sake. 

You  have  no  idea  what  a  confusion  and  lamentation 
there  was  all  over  the  State.  A  good  many  women  were 
drafted,  and  those  who  could  neither  get  substitutes  for 
love  nor  money,  were  marched  to  Gaston,  where  the  re 
cruiting  Colonel  was  considerate  enough  to  give  them  a 
separate  camp.  In  a  week,  however,  the  word  came  from 
Washington  that  the  Army  Regulations  of  the  United 
States  did  not  admit  of  their  being  received ;  and  they 
came  home  blessing  Mr,  Stanton.  This  was  the  end  of 
drafting  women  in  our  State. 

Nevertheless,  the  excitement  created  by  the  draft  did 
not  subside  at  once.  It  was  seized  upon  by  the  Demo 
cratic  leaders,  as  part  of  a  plan  already  concocted,  which 
they  then  proceeded  to  set  in  operation.  It  succeeded 
only  too  well,  and  I  don't  know  when  we  shall  ever  see 
the  end  of  it. 


330  TALES    OF   HOME. 

We  had  more  friends  among  the  Republicans  at  the 
start,  because  all  the  original  Abolitionists  in  the  State 
came  into  that  party  in  1860.  Our  success  had  been  so 
rapid  and  unforeseen  that  the  Democrats  continued  their 
opposition  even  after  female  suffrage  was  an  accomplished 
fact  j  but  the  leaders  were  shrewd  enough  to  see  that  an 
other  such  election  as  the  last  would  ruin  their  party  in 
the  State.  So  their  trains  were  quietly  laid,  and  the 
match  was  not  applied  until  all  Atlantic  was  ringing  with 
the  protestations  of  the  unwilling  conscripts  and  the  la 
ments  of  their  families.  Then  came,  like  three  claps  of 
thunder  in  one,  sympathy  for  the  women,  acquiescence  in 
their  rights,  and  invitations  to  them,  everywhere,  to  take 
part  in  the  Democratic  caucuses  and  conventions.  Most 
of  the  prominent  women  of  the  State  were  deluded  for  a 
time  by  this  manifestation,  and  acted  with  the  party  for 
the  sake  of  the  sex. 

I  had  no  idea,  however,  what  the  practical  result  of 
this  movement  would  be,  until,  a  few  weeks  before  elec 
tion,  I  was  calling  upon  Mrs.  Buckwalter,  and  happened 
to  express  my  belief  that  we  Republicans  were  going  to 
carry  the  State  again,  by  a  large  majority. 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  it,"  said  she,  with  an  expression 
of  great  relief,  "  because  then  my  vote  will  not  be  needed." 

"  Why  !  "  I  exclaimed ;  "  you  won't  decline  to  vote, 
surely  ? " 

"  Worse  than  that,"  she  answered,  "  I  am  afraid  I  shall 
have  to  vote  with  the  other  side." 

Now -as  I  knew  her  to  be  a  good  Republican,  I  could 


MRS.    STRONGITHARM  S    REPORT.  331 

scarcely  believe  my  ears.  She  blushed,  I  must  admit, 
when  she  saw  my  astonished  face. 

"  I'm  so  used  to  Bridget,  you  know,"  she  continued, 
"  and  good  girls  are  so  very  hard  to  find,  nowadays.  She 
has  as  good  as  said  that  she  won't  stay  a  day  later  than 
election,  if  I  don't  vote  for  her  candidate  j  and  what  am  I 
to  do  ? " 

"  Do  without !  "  I  said  shortly,  getting  up  in  my  indig 
nation. 

"Yes,  that's  very  well  for  you,  with  your  wonderful 
physique"  said  Mrs.  Buckwalter,  quietly,  "  but  think  of  me 
with  my  neuralgia,  and  the  pain  in  my  back  1  It  would 
be  a  dreadful  blow,  if  I  should  lose  Bridget." 

Well — what  with  torch-light  processions,  and  meetings 
on  both  sides,  Burroak  was  in  such  a  state  of  excitement 
when  election  came,  that  most  of  the  ladies  of  my  acquaint 
ance  were  almost  afraid  to  go  to  the  polls.  I  tried  to  get 
them  out  during  the  first  hours  after  sunrise,  when  I  went 
myself,  but  in  vain.  Even  that  early,  I  heard  things  that 
made  me  shudder.  Those  who  came  later,  went  home  re 
solved  to  give  up  their  rights  rather  than  undergo  a  second 
experience  of  rowdyism.  But  it  was  a  jubilee  for  the  servant 
girls.  Mrs.  Buckwalter  didn't  gain  much  by  her  apostasy, 
for  Bridget  came  home  singing  "  The  Wearing  of  the 
Green,"  and  let  fall  a  whole  tray  full  of  the  best  china  be 
fore  she  could  be  got  to  bed. 

Burroak,  which,  the  year  before,  had  a  Republican 
majority  of  three  hundred,  now  went  for  the  Democrats 
by  more  than  five  hundred.  The  same  party  carried  the 


332  TALES    OF    HOME. 

State,  electing  their  Governor  by  near  twenty  thousand. 
The  Republicans  would  now  have  gladly  repealed  the 
bill  giving  us  equal  rights,  but  they  were  in  a  minority, 
and  the  Democrats  refused  to  co-operate.  Mrs.  Whiston, 
who  still  remained  loyal  to  our  side,  collected  information 
from  all  parts  of  the  State,  from  which  it  appeared  that 
four-fifths  of  all  the  female  citizens  had  voted  the  Demo 
cratic  ticket.  In  New  Lisbon,  our  great  manufacturing 
city,  with  its  population  of  nearly  one  hundred  thousand, 
the  party  gained  three  thousand  votes,  while  the  acces 
sions  to  the  Republican  ranks  were  only  about  four  hun 
dred. 

Mrs.  Whiston  barely  escaped  being  defeated  ;  her  ma 
jority  was  reduced  from  seven  hundred  to  forty-three. 
Eleven  Democratic  Assemblywomen  and  four  Senator- 
esses  were  chosen,  however,  so  that  she  had  the  consola 
tion  of  knowing  that  her  sex  had  gained,  although  her 
party  had  lost.  She  was  still  in  good  spirits  :  "  It  will  all 
right  itself  in  time,"  she  said. 

You  will  readily  guess,  after  what  I  have  related,  that 
I  was  not  only  not  re-elected  to  the  Legislature,  but  that 
I  was  not  even  a  candidate.  I  could  have  born  the  out 
rageous  attacks  of  the  opposite  party ;  but  the  treatment 
I  had  received  from  my  own  "  constituents  "  (I  shall  al 
ways  hate  the  word)  gave  me  a  new  revelation  of  the  ac 
tual  character  of  political  life.  I  have  not  mentioned  half 
the  worries  and  annoyances  to  which  I  was  subjected — 
the  endless,  endless  letters  and  applications  for  office,  or 
for  my  influence  in  some  way — the  abuse  and  threats  when 


MRS.  STRONGITHARM'S  REPORT.         333 

I  could  not  possibly  do  what  was  desired — the  exhibitions 
of  selfishness  and  disregard  of  all  great  and  noble  princi 
ples — and  finally,  the  shameless  advances  which  were 
made  by  what  men  call  "  the  lobby,"  to  secure  my  vote 
for  this,  that,  and  the  other  thing.  Why,  it  fairly  made  my 
hair  stand  on  end  to  hear  the  stories  which  the  pleasant 
men,  whom  I  thought  so  grandly  interested  in  schemes 
for  "the  material  development  of  the  country/'  told 
about  each  other.  Mrs.  Filch's  shawl  began  to  burn  my 
shoulders  before  I  had  worn  it  a  half  a  dozen  times.  (I 
have  since  given  it  to  Melissa,  as  a  wedding-present). 

Before  the  next  session  was  half  over,  I  was  doubly 
glad  of  being  safe  at  home.  Mrs.  Whiston  supposed  that 
the  increased  female  representation  would  give  her  more 
support,  and  indeed  it  seemed  so,  at  first.  But  after  her 
speech  on  the  Bounty  bill,  only  two  of  the  fifteen  Demo 
cratic  women  would  even  speak  to  her,  and  all  hope  of 
concord  of  action  in  the  interests  of  women  was  at  an 
end.  We  read  the  debates,  and  my  blood  fairly  boiled 
when  I  found  what  taunts  and  sneers,  and  epithets  she 
was  forced  to  endure.  I  wondered  how  she  could  sit  still 
under  them. 

To  make  her  position  worse,  the  adjoining  seat  was 
occupied  by  an  Irishwoman,  who  had  been  elected  by  the 
votes  of  the  laborers  on  the  new  Albemarle  Extension,  in 
the  neighborhood  of  which  she  kept  a  grocery  store. 
Nelly  Kirkpatrick  was  a  great,  red-haired  giant  of  a  wo 
man,  very  illiterate,  but  with  some  native  wit,  and  good- 
hearted  enough,  I  am  told,  when  she  was  in  her  right 


334  TALES     OF    HOME. 

mind.  She  always  followed  the  lead  of  Mr.  Gorham 
(whose  name,  you  see,  came  before  hers  in  the  call),  and 
a  look  from  him  was  generally  sufficient  to  quiet  her  when 
she  was  inclined  to  be  noisy. 

When  the  resolutions  declaring  the  war  a  failure  were 
introduced,  the  party  excitement  ran  higher  than  ever. 
The  "  lunch-room"  (as  they  called  it — I  never  went  there 
but  once,  the  title  having  deceived  me)  in  the  basement- 
story  of  the  State  House  was  crowded  during  the  discus 
sion,  and  every  time  Nelly  Kirkpatrick  came  up,  her  face 
was  a  shade  deeper  red.  Mr.  Gorham's  nods  and  winks 
were  of  no  avail — speak  she  would,  and  speak  she  did, 
not  so  very  incoherently,  after  all,  but  very  abusively.  To 
be  sure,  you  would  never  have  guessed  it,  if  you  had  read 
the  quiet  and  dignified  report  in  the  papers  on  her  side, 
the  next  day. 

Then  Mrs.  Whiston's  patience  broke  down.  "Mr. 
Speaker,"  she  exclaimed,  starting  to  her  feet,  "  I  protest 
against  this  House  being  compelled  to  listen  to  such  a 
tirade  as  has  just  been  delivered.  Are  we  to  be  disgraced 
before  the  world — " 

"  Oh,  hoo  !  Disgraced,  is  it  ? "  yelled  Nelly  Kirkpat 
rick,  violently  interrupting  her,  "  and  me  as  dacent  a  wom 
an  as  ever  she  was,  or  ever  will  be  !  Disgraced,  hey  ? 
Oh,  I'll  larn  her  what  it  is  to  blaggard  her  betters  !  " 

And  before  anybody  could  imagine  what  was  coming, 
she  pounced  upon  Mrs.  Whiston,  with  one  jerk  ripped  off 
her  skirt  (it  was  silk,  not  serge,  this  time),  seized  her  by 
the  hair,  and  gave  her  head  such  a  twist  backwards,  that 


MRS.   STRONGITHARM'S  REPORT.         335 

the  chignon  not  only  came  off  in  her  hands,  but  as  her 
victim  opened  her  mouth  too  widely  in  the  struggle,  the 
springs  of  her  false  teeth  were  sprung  the  wrong  way,  and 
the  entire  set  flew  out  and  rattled  upon  the  floor. 

Of  course  there  were  cries  of  "  Order !  Order  !  "  and 
the  nearest  members — Mr.  Gorham  among  the  first — 
rushed  in  ;  but  the  mischief  was  done.  Mrs.  Whiston  had 
always  urged  upon  our  minds  the  necessity  of  not  only  be 
ing  dressed  according  to  the  popular  fashion,  but  also  as 
elegantly  and  becomingly  as  possible.  "  If  we  adopt  the 
Bloomers,"  she  said,  "  we  shall  never  get  our  rights,  while 
the  world  stands.  Where  it  is  necessary  to  influence  men, 
we  must  be  wholly  and  truly  women,  not  semi-sexed  non 
descripts  ;  we  must  employ  every  charm  Nature  gives  us 
and  Fashion  adds,  not  hide  them  under  a  forked  ex 
tinguisher  !  "  I  give  her  very  words  to  show  you  her  way 
of  looking  at  things.  Well,  now  imagine  this  elegant 
woman,  looking  not  a  day  over  forty,  though  she  was  — 
but  no,  I  have  no  right  to  tell  it, — imagine  her,  I  say,  with 
only  her  scanty  natural  hair  hanging  over  her  ears,  her 
mouth  dreadfully  fallen  in,  her  skirt  torn  off,  all  in  open 
day,  before  the  eyes  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  members  (and 
I  am  told  they  laughed  immensely,  in  spite  of  the 
scandal  that  it  was),  and,  if  you  are  human  beings,  you 
will  feel  that  she  must  have  been  wounded  to  the  very 
heart. 

There  was  a  motion  made  to  expel  Nelly  Kirkpatrick, 
and  perhaps  it  might  have  succeeded — but  the  railroad 
hands,  all  over  the  State,  made  a  heroine  of  her,  and  her 


TALES    OF    HOME. 

party  was  afraid  of  losing  five  or  six  thousand  votes  ; 
so  only  a  mild  censure  was  pronounced.  But  there 
was  no  end  to  the  caricatures,  and  songs,  and  all 
sorts  of  ribaldry,  about  the  occurrence ;  and  even  our 
party  said  that,  although  Mrs.  Whiston  was  really  and 
truly  a  martyr,  yet  the  circumstance  was  an  immense 
damage  to  them.  When  she  heard  t/iat,  I  believe  it  killed 
her.  She  resigned  her  seat,  went  home,  never  appeared 
again  in  public,  and  died  within  a  year.  "  My  dear 
friend,"  she  wrote  to  me,  not  a  month  before  her  death, 
"  I  have  been  trying  all  my  life  to  get  a  thorough  knowl 
edge  of  the  masculine  nature,  but  my  woman's  plummet 
will  not  reach  to  the  bottom  of  that  chaotic  pit  of  selfish 
ness  and  principle,  expedience  and  firmness  for  the  right, 
brutality  and  tenderness,  gullibilit}'  and  devilish  shrewd 
ness,  which  I  have  tried  to  sound.  Only  one  thing  is 
clear — we  women  cannot  do  without  what  we  have 
sometimes,  alas  !  sneered  at  as  the  chivalry  of  the  sex.  The 
question  of  our  rights  is  as  clear  to  me  as  ever ;  but  we 
must  find  a  plan  to  get  them  without  being  forced  to  share, 
or  even  to  see,  all  that  men  do  in  their  political  lives.  We 
have  only  beheld  some  Principle  riding  aloft,  not  the 
mud  through  which  her  chariot  wheels  are  dragged.  The 
ways  must  be  swept  before  we  can  walk  in  them — but  how 
and  by  whom  shall  this  be  done  ?  " 

For  my  part,  /can't  say,  and  I  wish  somebody  would 
tell  me. 

Well — after  seeing  our  State,  which  we  used  to  be 
proud  of,  delivered  over  for  two  years  to  the  control  of  a 


MRS.    STRONGITHARM  S    REPORT.  337 

party  whose  policy  was  so  repugnant  to  all  our  feelings  of 
loyalty,  we  endeavored  to  procure,  at  least  a  qualification 
of  intelligence  for  voters.  Of  course,  we  didn't  get  it :  the 
exclusion  from  suffrage  of  all  who  were  unable  to  read  and 
write  might  have  turned  the  scales  again,  and  given  us 
the  State.  After  our  boys  came  back  from  the  war,  we 
might  have  succeeded — but  their  votes  were  over-balanced 
by  those  of  the  servant-girls,  every  one  of  whom  turned 
out,  making  a  whole  holiday  of  the  election. 

I  thought,  last  fall,  that  my  Maria,  who  is  German, 
would  have  voted  with  us.  I  stayed  at  home  and  did  the 
work  myself,  on  purpose  that  she  might  hear  the  oration 
of  Carl  Schurz ;  but  old  Hammer,  who  keeps  the  lager- 
beer  saloon  in  the  upper  end  of  Burroak,  gave  a  supper 
and  a  dance  to  all  the  German  girls  and  their  beaux,  after 
the  meeting,  and  so  managed  to  secure  nine  out  of  ten  of 
their  votes  for  Seymour.  Maria  proposed  going  away  a 
week  before  election,  up  into  Decatur  County,  where,  she 
said,  some  relations,  just  arrived  from  Bavaria,  had  settled. 
I  was  obliged  to  let  her  go,  or  lose  her  altogether,  but  I 
was  comforted  by  the  thought  that  if  her  vote  were  lost 
for  Grant,  at  least  it  could  not  be  given  to  Seymour.  Aftei 
the  election  was  over,  and  Decatur  County,  which  we  had 
always  managed  to  carry  hitherto,  went  against  us,  the 
whole  matter  was  explained.  About  five  hundred  girls, 
we  were  informed,  had  been  colonized  in  private  families, 
as  extra  help,  for  a  fortnight,  and  of  course  Maria  was 
one  of  them.  (I  have  looked  at  the  addresses  of  her  let 
ters,  ever  since,  and  not  one  has  she  sent  to  Decatur).  A 


TALES    OF    HOME. 

committee  has  been  appointed,  and  a  report  made  on  the 
election  frauds  in  our  State,  and  we  shall  see,  I  suppose, 
whether  any  help  comes  of  it. 

Now,  you  mustn't  think,  from  all  this,  that  I  am  an 
apostate  from  the  principle  of  Women's  Rights.  No,  in 
deed  !  All  the  trouble  we  have  had,  as  I  think  will  be 
evident  to  the  millions  who  read  my  words,  comes  from 
the  men.  They  have  not  only  made  politics  their  monop 
oly,  but  they  have  fashioned  it  into  a  tremendous,  elaborate 
system,  in  which  there  is  precious  little  of  either  principle 
or  honesty.  We  can  and  we  must  "  run  the  machine  "  (to 
use  another  of  their  vulgar  expressions)  with  them,  until 
we  get  a  chance  to  knock  off  the  useless  wheels  and  thing 
umbobs,  and  scour  the  whole  concern,  inside  and  out. 
Perhaps  the  men  themselves  would  like  to  do  this,  if  they 
only  knew  how  :  men  have  so  little  talent  for  cleaning-up. 
But  when  it  comes  to  making  a  litter,  they're  at  home,  let 
me  tell  you  ! 

Meanwhile,  in  our  State,  things  are  about  as  bad  as 
they  can  be.  The  women  are  drawn  for  juries,  the  same 
as  ever,  but  (except  in  Whittletown,  where  they  have  a  sep 
arate  room,)  no  respectable  woman  goes,  and  the  fines 
come  heavy  on  some  of  us.  The  demoralization  among 
our  help  is  so  bad,  that  we  are  going  to  try  Co-operative 
Housekeeping.  If  that  don't  succeed,  I  shall  get  brother 
Samuel,  who  lives  in  California,  to  send  me  two  China 
men,  one  for  cook  and  chamber-boy,  and  one  as  nurse  for 
Melissa.  I  console  myself  with  thinking  that  the  end  of 
it  all  must  be  good,  since  the  principle  is  right :  but,  dear 


MRS.  STRONGJTHARM'S  REPORT.         339 

me  !  I  had  no  idea  that  I  should  be  called  upon  to  go 
through  such  tribulation. 

Now  the  reason  I  write — and  I  suppose  I  must  hurry 
to  the  end,  or  you  will  be  out  of  all  patience — is  to  beg, 
and  insist,  and  implore  my  sisters  in  other  States  to  lose 
no  more  time,  but  at  once  to  coax,  or  melt,  or  threaten 
the  men  into  accepting  their  claims.  We  are  now  so  iso 
lated  in  our  rights  that  we  are  obliged  to  bear  more  than 
our  proper  share  of  the  burden.  When  the  States  around 
us  shall  be  so  far  advanced,  there  will  be  a  chance  for  new 
stateswomen  to  spring  up,  and  fill  Mrs.  Whiston's  place, 
and  we  shall  then,  I  firmly  believe,  devise  a  plan  to  cleanse 
the  great  Augean  stable  of  politics  by  turning  into  it  the 
river  of  female  honesty  and  intelligence  and  morality. 
But  they  must  do  this,  somehow  or  other,  without  letting 
the  river  be  tainted  by  the  heaps  of  pestilent  offal  it  must 
sweep  away.  As  Lord  Bacon  says  (in  that  play  falsely 
attributed  to  Shakespeare)— "Ay,  there's  the  rub  !  " 

If  you  were  to  ask  me,  now,  what  effect  the  right  of 
suffrage,  office,  and  all  the  duties  of  men  has  had  upon 
the  morals  of  the  women  of  our  State,  I  should  be  puzzled 
what  to  say.  It  is  something  like  this — if  you  put  a  chem 
ical  purifying  agent  into  a  bucket  of  muddy  water,  the 
water  gets  clearer,  to  be  sure,  but  the  chemical  substance 
takes  up  some  of  the  impurity.  Perhaps  that's  rather  too 
strong  a  comparison  ;  but  if  you  say  that  men  are  worse 
than  women,  as  most  people  do,  then  of  course  we  im 
prove  them  by  closer  political  intercourse,  and  lose  a  little 
ourselves,  in  the  process.  I  leave  you  to  decide  the  rela- 


340  TALES    OF     HOME. 

tive  loss  and  gain.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  this  is  a  feature 
of  the  question  which  I  would  rather  not  discuss  ;  and  I 
see,  by  the  reports  of  the  recent  Conventions,  that  all  the 
champions  of  our  sex  feel  the  same  way. 

Well,  since  I  must  come  to  an  end  somewhere,  let  it  be 
here.  To  quote  Lord  Bacon  again,  take  my  "  round,  un 
varnished  tale,"  and  perhaps  the  world  will  yet  acknowledge 
that  some  good  has  been  done  by 

Yours  truly, 

JANE  STRONGITHARM. 


THE    END. 


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Contents : 

A  Familiar  Letter  to  the  Reader.  A  Cruise  on  Lake  Lagoda.  Between 
Europe  and  Asia.  Winter-Life  in  St.  Petersburgh.  The  Little  Land  of  Appen- 
zell.  From  Perpignan  to  Montserrat.  Balearic  Days.  Catalonian  Bridle-Roads. 
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